the last farewell

The Last Farewell.


When I worked as an orderly at a clinic in New York,
(now shut) that used to look after celebs of the music
and theatre world, I met Marilyn for the very last time.
Dressed in a fur coat – and nothing else, hair untidy on
her breath the lingering smell of alcohol; behind her
a gelatinous, howling mob of reporters that wouldn’t
let go of their wounded prey they wanted to absorb
every little detail of her immense suffering, I showed
Marilyn to the lift, held my arm around her to shield
her from the cameras; pressed the button, it seemed to
take forever before its door opened, when it did and
she entered, I whispered: “I will always love you.”
She turned, and as the door closed, smiled and she was
beautiful again, just for me.