The unction cools my brow; the candle shines br and braids a line of sacramental brede; br the priest half-chants the text, and makes the signs, br jogging my mind with the redemptive creed br I learned to lisp in church. A night-shift nurse br shows up with rosary beads and borrowed shawl: br I squeeze my morphine pump; the pain is worse. br A gurney clatters down the empty hall. br br I wonder what my blur of meaning meant br to warrant such precautionary flush; br I wonder why the candle's Sunday scent br expands and cloys the sterile room. A hush br folds up all sound; the candle snuffs its flame: br a wisp absconds with my stowaway name.