Visiting

In the tall many-eyed hospital I am shrunken into a small pocket of isolation waiting for a man to die or the replanting of a once mislaid miracle. I'm ducking beneath time and place waiting for something I dare not name yet. A stranger walks by, he looks at me as if I am known to him I want to tell him I hardly know myself anymore but now his eyes are glazing over with indifference. I’ve been here before, a little further down this corridor as a person blanked to off-white for the ease of finding; a fearless medical concern, laid-out, detailed, prepped for the probing, one wrist banded just in case the unforeseen grew too large to be ignored. Today I am only a figure on a bench visiting, hoping for news of death postponed trying to recall one iota of the fear I once left here as I, bundled against a heartless wind was delivered back into a living space, a place my friend may not find anymore.