Friday, March 7, 2014
Everyone was standing there.
The doctor, some nurses, a mother -
and her son, in bed.
It was almost time to go; the papers had been signed.
The son looked all around the artless room
and toward the window
trying to take it all, or something in.
The nurse he had liked the most, the charge nurse,
about the age of his mother but her hair dyed
the color of halloween candy corn,
touched his hand, and asked:
“How do you feel?” Her eyes touched his, like always.
“I feel like I’m about to miss something,” he said.
“You always have, why not now?” said his mother, laughing.
Then he watched the ceiling begin to shrivel.