The nurse sits alone at her poorly lit station,
finishing a celebrity crossword puzzle,
shoes kicked off and feet bare under the desk.
A buzzer sounds down the hall,
a cicada in a dried out field,
and she jumps to her feet.
Feet cold against the elongated tile floor,
she hurries toward the door
at the end of the hall,
propped open, allowing a sliver of light
to extend outward.
She enters to find the tiny remote clutched in
his shaking, mottled hand,
The small vase is knocked over, daisies on the ground.
The buzzing stops.
She takes the device,
and his hand grasps hers weakly
for an instant
before falling back to the bed.
A nurse is alone at her station.