Confession
Waiting for death
like a cat that
will jump on the bed.
I am so very sorry for my wife
she will see this stiff,
white body
shake it once,
then may beagain
"Hank!"
Hank won't answer.
it's not my death that worries me,
it's my wife left with this pile of nothing.
I want to let her know
though that all the nights sleeping beside her
even the useless arguments
were things ever splendid
and the hard words I ever feared to say can now be said:
I love you.
Charles Bukowski
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