Michal   (Mitak)  Mahgerefteh   ~  Poetry    &   Art 

    Poetry and Fine Art 

For Many Nights

I wake from a shallow sleep, stretch arms,

kick off the flannel sheets, and stand by his bed;           

gently touch his wrist, two fingers between

the bone and the tendon over his radial artery,

a steady pulse, he is still here. The cold polished

floor sends shivers through my sore spine . . .

the air in the room the chill of winter. Only his

resting complexion warms my bowed surrender,

restored to the possibility of his untimely passing. 


Copyright by Michal Mitak Mahgerefteh (2015)

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