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In a few days, I will visit an older poet who is dying. This poem stands vigil with other words and syllables waiting inside the word “hospice”: hope, pose, choices, hospi(tal), sci(ence), I, see. I thank DL for introducing me to anagram poetry. I thank AW for his beautiful life and words.
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A word for both “guest” and “host,” the hope
for a shared etiquette at the end, that kind pose
I will practice in my vigil with the choices
of a poet almost silenced. In what hospi-
tal of sonnets will he be solaced? In what sci-
ence of love will he keep his faith? Invited, I
follow three graces of Protocol. Attend. Listen. See.
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by Therese L. Broderick
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