Phlegm and bile usurp sunrise.
Sky turns to a dark, narrowing throat.
Voice deepens toward the acoustic grave.
The father, bound in cotton sheets,
travels between wafts of prayer and disbelief.
Humbled, disaffected transient
dreams of rising, of dry sand, leaves of grass.
Eventually, the face smoothens out, shaking off the ancient flesh
and wild-eyed youth for some fresh remembrances not yet laid
atop his burial clothes.