He rose from the chloroform bath
Save for one digit.
That was left behind in his mourning coat pocket.
There was no grief for his own life,
Only for the four he’d adored.
Five minus one finger on his left hand,
He slipped on the silken gown,
Slid his fist into the pocket – then fingered the lone digit awkwardly.
Now that he was on the other side of pain, he became obsessed with getting back to those he loved,
But had left behind.
Could he return one more time?