Waiting for the next good thing,
The next good feeling to kick in.
Outside, a woman weeping
In the hospital hallway,
A man’s voice comforting her,
It’s alright. I’ll be alright.
Why is he comforting her?
Relationships are immune
To context—the roles don’t change,
No matter how solemnly
People speak of reversals.
If he was the comforter,
Then he’s still the comforter,
No matter who is dying.
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