My father died in our spare room
Where he had been sojourning
Slowly squeezed small and shrunk
Until eventually he stilled
skin tinted butter wax.
so silent he
Didn’t ask for even a sip of water.
You have to understand
He was 99 years old
Suspected he would survive forever
And surely wanted to.
Instead he slipped away because nobody
Not even my father
Who argued like a lawyer
Can muster a winning case against death.