Bedside Poem by John Weber

I twist with each terrible moan
escaping your lips in distress
while you lie prone, never alone,
to guess or stress on progress

of that mass invading you
sparked by ecology's change
to accrue tissues untrue
deranged limp in the exchange

until pulsing force vacates
through the tears welling inside
as their chemicals placate
to guide you outside doe-eyed

with papery sympathy
numbing such churning decay
to quake me with empathy
this day as you drift away.