Notes: most of these are not perfectly verbatim, as I've heard them once. Don't come running after me with pitchforks.
The final line of a 1 minute poem about a woman who sees some light of recognition in her sister's eyes and hears her struggle to make sounds through her coma.
My father says she's just grinding her teeth.
In a poem spoken by G-d.
You asked for direction. You got choice.
You asked for comfort. I gave you desire.
You asked "G-d! Love me!" And I gave you stone cold silence so you would have to love each other.
In a poem about in the voice of an old woman from New Orleans who tried to ride out the storm.
A pastor can only put you in the ground, not Heaven.
The final lines of the aforementioned poem about the man with Alzheimers. This one is very not-verbatim.
...so I gave her a nickname. She doesn't notice when I use it because I only say it when I manage to remember the words to grace at the table. Our father...who art in...heaven. heaven. heaven.
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