In the ER with my Father

by Michael Gullickson

I touched your forehead for the last time,
and willed you to recognize I was there.

They said the ocean of your brain had stilled,
no more waves, rolling to the shore.

That no man or machine,
could ever stir them again.

Choose to disconnect, they said,
let go.

I touched your forehead, for the last time
and made it so.