Too short for most Disney rides,
north of 70, no family,
she smiled when her diagnosis
was passed across the desk,
opting for palliative care.
A recovering Catholic for years,
the final cure had arrived.
She wanted to know why I wasn’t
having more fun when I stopped by
the following week, spreading her hands
as though to say: things happen.
We watched a football game on TV,
with Rosie encouraging both sides.
When I came by to say good-bye
she squeezed my hand,
whispering: less grim, mister.
A week later death
borrowed her name.
Left her body to science,
her spirit to this world.
Carl Mayfield began his career as a human being way back in the annals of one-step-at-a-time. Recent work can be found in Abbey, Plum Tree Tavern, Wales Haiku Journal, Skidrow Penthouse.