Waiting for God

The old man
is trying to die.
He’s never done it
so it’s taking
a while.
He’s finding death
is a friendly sort,
likes to visit,
hang out with the living
longer than he should,
what he’s there for.

In the hallway
someone whispers,
“God will be here
soon enough.”
No one prays.

The old man
stares at the ceiling,
tells me
where he hid
his wedding ring.