Covering bone Skin drapes loosely over the bone Like thin wrinkled paper Shifting over protruding blue veins As he reaches for water In the cold white hospital room. “I’m fine. They treat me good here”. He says. Inhale. Exhale. His chest heaves, lungs clutching at the dry air Pushing and collapsing like a bellows. His son reaches over, places a warm hand on pale icy feet. “Are you cold, Dad?” Red wool socks are wiggled over pale toes Like an apology, Covering the small frail bones That once carried this boy home. This is enough.