The Week Post-Chemo

My house takes on a different nature
when Gerry dozes on the couch in the day,
sleeps there all night.
It becomes a hospital, the living room
his sickroom, and I am the nurse,
or at least the home health aide.
Ted and I moderate our music,
our voices. There's a dense hush,
like life at lower volume.
It doesn't feel permanent, but it's 
a long-lasting temporary.
I have accommodated to these times.
I see his red sleep cap again the pillow,
see him bundled beneath his comforter,
and only occasionally feel the pang of loss.
I am accepting whatever the future may bring
moment by moment.