Triolet for Uncle Dennis
I have a life expectancy of ten more minutes, I will eat what I want.
—The Normal Heart
Towards the end, he’d only eat pudding
by the spoonful I’d feed him after school.
I’d walk to the kitchen (he’d lose his footing)
at the end of the hall to fetch his pudding,
vanilla or pistachio, stealing myself a cookie,
just one, not stealing, just one, the one rule.
(Cytomegalovirus eyes could not see the pudding
I fed him as we watched I Love Lucy after school.)