I dream I am a menorah
set on fire every night.
By dawn, I am extinguished
by the Moon Road,
a path of water, illumined
and leading to the horizon.
Silver, like a samovar (for tea, maybe ashes).
Grey, like his tumor.
I hesitate to ask this person
if he is still dying.
My mom says:
It can take time to die.
But I remember his words:
The future is so soon.
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