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.


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