Gillian Swain - #12 - hospital room

crowded  with unspoken  walls
full  the room still fits us in
too much silence
is there such a thing

mouthwash straw water ice 
apple cheese crackers
couch sick-bag pillows
pump cannula oxygen

voices ripple in from hall
brisk nurses march past busy
work  heart  swirl
the job gets done  the t.l.c

delivered  sheets towels flowers
pump swivel pump dose

I watch one side of your chest
rise and fall rise and fall

holding pattern takes you all the way
through night through day  your
bedside gaze sidelong
wattle sweeps the sky outside this
window  soothes the  breaking
soul  voice cracks unsmooth
freedom of sky too far
too far