Prayer for the Coworker

Made it to the door
but not the gate
which still needs sanding
but the clerk is hemorrhaging
and hanging out in the OR.
After losing the voice, finding it
and losing it again, it's a bitter break-up
the pressure, the pills, the liver
one more try, give it at least one
and deliver the special messages
one at a time until the kafr
bite the ends of their fingers
quite off and the believers sigh
slowly and ready to question
the insects that inspect the lights
that flit back and forth between the porches
past each other, past the turn-off
where little lulu cries by herself
over the death certificates
gets to know everybody
as she reads the whole town diary.
No one knows she is out there
behind a desk marking off
infarct, accident, natural, suicide
sepsis, embolism, failure, coagulation
because death is confidential
to us all all hush hush
we whisper over our lunch buckets
that we just can't believe
it was him or her
but as she looks for one last lover
rides in and out of town
doing her wheelies,
minding her business
picking up her paychecks
one at a time, it feels real special
to know just a little something
about the way she cut her hair
four times before giving up
and regretting all that loss.
The prayers went out last night,
the same gang who go in together
on the lottery, one dollar
per contestant sent one hopeful amen.