Vox Populi
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Kari Gunter-Seymour: Heartland Hospice
My father has not eaten in 18 days.
I hold his hand, a bag of twigs.
When I was a kid, sick, he’d sing Hank William’s
Hey Good Lookin,’ call me his best girl.
My sister brought clothes today.
We agreed, Dad won’t meet his maker
in paper briefs. She brought empty boxes,
too, always the practical one.
I miss my ridgetop. With the exception
of one person, we are the longest here,
have come to know the staff, meet the families
of others, share the fatigue.
Tonight, the bedside lamp dims,
flares, blows its bulb. I close my eyes,
imagine my father, leaping his boundaries
in a flash, at the speed of light.
From A Place So Deep Inside America It Can’t Be Seen by Kari Gunter-Seymour (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions 2020).
Kari Gunter-Seymour is the Poet Laureate of Ohio.
Vox Populi 
Beautiful and so close to my thoughts when I lost family members. My parents were able to leave from home, but my husband was not so fortunate. Clasp those memories tight.
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Yes, me too. Thank you.
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My best to you, Barbara. Thank you for your beautiful thoughts.
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That was one of the most heartbraking lines ever:
“We agreed, Dad won’t meet his maker
in paper briefs”
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Thank you, Dear Rosemarie!
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Rosemarie! Thank you!
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Such a beautiful poem Kari! Thank you!
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Thank you, David
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