He calls his mother to listen to her labored breathing—
all that’s left of her, in her last bed.

The nurse holds the phone to her mouth
while he thinks of his life with her and without her.

He would prefer to be beside her now, but he has to work.
And where would she rather be?

She might wish to be in her son’s arms, gathered
and held closely, as she once held him.

Or she might choose to be cradled by the sea outside her window,
riding the sacred waves to shore.

Her harsh, short breath is her last gift to her son,
and she puts her whole self into it.

This is her last concern, before she leaves him
to his own dying.