Anaesthesia 

The anesthesiologist says,
“These minutes may
be the best in your life.”

The sky holds a shinning knife 
on the day 
they release my mother.

Near the car
she emerges straight 
from the wheelchair by herself.

A pain near the rear of her spine
bears the residue of sleep.

She asks me 
before I do, “How are you?”
What can change during 
that small amount of time?

“A life.” She doesn’t say
because I do not ask.

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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor

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