Hospital Bed

The clock strikes 3:30, I hear the nurse sigh

Thinking there is, yet another patient to die?

So I lie in my bed, counting the glow-in-the dark stars

Wondering, if by the time I’ll be ok, they’ll find life on Mars

A girl stirs beside me, troubled in sleep

As I lie in my hospital bed, ready to weep

The crisp, linen blankets

Scratching my toes

The IV humming beside me, like a slow dying moth

I wonder what comes first, the chicken or egg.

Feeling the fresh-hospital-smelling cloth

Settle on my legs, more silently than a moth

Whatever happens, day or night

The moon will always shine bright

On my still form, lying in my hospital bed

So still, I could really be dead

Whatever happens, solar or lunar eclipse

The grass will always smell clipped

And the deer will feel the pain again

As the passing hunting season blunders through them with no shame

Whatever happens, sunrise or set

He’ll always be beside me

Because he’s already dead