NOTE: This is a follow-up to the sestina I wrote last week, “In the ICU,” about my father’s passing. My sister Diamondqueen, steadfastly not a poetry fan, hadn’t read the sestina yet. I was telling her about it and lamented I hadn’t been able to work in all the weird details of that morning. When I mentioned the priest, she yelled, “I forgot about that! I need to write that down somewhere so I remember.” I’ve done it for her here, not that I expect her to read this poem, either.