and as I try to catch

my breath my

strapping vigorous Father

hunches over His

hospital bed.

trying to thread the

crotchet blanket over

and over His toes to

offset the freeze from

metallic paint upon

His wired frame.

this current causing

such painful frustration

as body shreds

on pills like torpedoes. He’s

falling in panic He’s gripping

and slipping away from

‘This fucking blanket’

that spreads and travels

while cancers unravel and

spirits shard upon

this washed out N.H.S. wall.

taking the most of

the fullest float of

my weight

less

ness.

 

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