Ed Meek
author of four books of poetry and a collection of short stories; former teacher; his work has appeared in The Paris Review, The North American Review, Cream City Review, The Boston Review, The Sun, The Christian Science Monitor, The Boston Globe and The Boston Herald
At The End
He was so old his bones seemed to swim in his skin.
And when I took his hand to feel his pulse
I felt myself drawn in. It was as faint
as the steps of a child
padding across the floor in slippers,
and yet he was smiling.
I could almost hear a river
running beneath his breath.
The water clear and cold and deep.
He was ready and willing to wade on in.
© Ed Meek