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Description
I walked inside to a cold contrast from the parking lot,
the button glowed and hummed when I pressed it,
with the familiar hospital smell I recently met
crawling into the sterile lobby from above.
Third floor, down the hall, turn when you have to.

I saw Paul awake once since the crash – progress –
so my calm hands and steady walk perished
at the crowd huddled around his cell.
Doctors rationed soft language on his parents,
beside the man in black with cross and nametag.

Nurses came out, and we hyenas went in.
They chose me to watch from his side,
His dying irises were pulled back like speed,
but his face looked like opium. His breaths
from the diaphragm… neither awake nor asleep.

I watched the slow balloon chest stop.
Adrenaline injected, his mother cried
while machines bleated a requiem background
to a stranger’s prayer, someone hugged me
while I thought about how badly I needed a haircut.