The Dying Infirmarian

He felt isolated but knew the ritual,

Had witnessed more than four score

And been a mortician in most:

Other Brothers start singing psalms

With intense if temporary concern

And then file off to have their dinner,

Cerain their brother’s in angelville,

While in the dawn of a moribund mind

Slow realization of imminent planting,

Riding the bed while the sun delays:

Timidly, side-saddle, in pace or gallop.

This infirmarian a pacer and always

Had been from the first old Jesuit

Who gently died in his trembling arms

Moving toward the end in measured joy.

It amused him to guess who would be

First to sack his desk and wardrobe,

Occupy the room and infirmarian’s job

The priest obliged to stay to the end

Knew no prayers for a final smirk.