Hospital Hiatus
Pencil-thin branches
topping a tree outside
the picture window are
thrashing in tandem
with the tempo of
your distress. The sky's
as leaden as Northern
Europe's daytime
dailies. Rainwater
pools prettily on building
roofs for your bedside
pastime. A good thing as
Baptism for birds. Not
for you, such simplicity,
waking in a blood bath,
the IV ripped from
your flailing wrist. Was
it good dreams, or
nightmare? Death wish,
or wake-up call?
Good omen, or bad?
Daylight
is the referee.
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