I was so glad to see your feet
Poking out of the end of the bed
Past the curtain—
I would know them anywhere.
They looked alive.
At least not white or yellow,
With a toe tag.
You wouldn’t be in that hospital bed
If you weren’t alive,
I immediately know.
The two hours of following the chopper on the ferry,
To the wrong hospital, trying to find you,
wondering if you died on the way
And they skipped the hospital
And took you straight to the morgue,
Those two hours were over
At the sight of your feet.
##
No comments:
Post a Comment