about a pulse

it couldnt have come as a shock. But then again, how could it not?
My grandfather is dead.

Before i left him for the last time, lying in that bed,
no clothes, no glasses, no skin,
just the breathing bones of a man getting old a little bit too much,
i made one last gesture to him, my last gesture to him

when i was a kid, i was told to have an arrithmic heart,
(a concept i have come to embrasse in a poetic way, in the lack of any particular physical consequence)
and my grandfather would press my whrist, to feel my faulty pulse
to certify that all was well

when he died, no glasses, no skin,
i went to him one last time
and i held his whrist, faultier than mine had ever been
and i felt nothing

with a smile in the corner of my lip,
i sparked a sware word,
"fuck, i cant feel a goddamned thing"

like him, my grandfather,
it is most funny to me
how i was never too good at getting the pulse of others.