He takes his dinner in the bed Love sickened and infirmed The orderly found him there Filleted on the marble stairs Hat still in hand, His smoking remains blown out by a kiss from Nurse Someday Soon Someday soon Someday soon Some, some, some His eyes are closed He mouths her name The rosary her lips and tongue She is the centrifuge that throws the spires from the sun The Sistine Chapel painted with a Gatling gun Someday soon Someday soon Someday soon Someday soon Someday soon Polar nettles set on end Move like starlings up a cliff Antennae of her foggy touch The force field 'round her frosty hips Whose shape recalls the wicked spade That buried him but on his lips The last rites of Nurse Someday Soon