The Note - June 10, 2025

sometime last night

inside my box of poems

he slipped the yellow

hand-written note

My name is Gary, too. I have just come from the hospital.

I have 6-8 months to live – lung cancer.  I don’t have anyone

or anything. I’ve tried but don’t understand your poem.

and taped to its corner

a hospital wristband

“Gary Bishop”

the poem that day was

Head Down, Chin Up, about

living with gravity until death,

when I simply ruminated where

our weightless self might go

“maybe where the

finger of hope points

or the direction that

love and gratitude travel

just non-stop, and all the way”