Marcus,

We covered the screen

With the picture you drew, of you, Woody and Buzz

To hide the ridges that

Spiked every time you laughed.

Carving mountain ranges on the monitor,

Nearly unsurmountable,

But not for you.

I saw your hands cling to tubes,

Embedded within your body  

As you traversed green peaks underneath the paper,

Harnessing your punctured heartbeat

Giggling, you lay limp, hands spread.

 

Shallow breaths chuckled from

The rip, chin to pelvis a red grimace,

Absent from your face,

That wept into your white sheets, white skin,

While your eye’s remained bone dry.

You scanned over us with one-thousand-year wisdom.

As we sat at the foot of your bed,

Pupils of pain, present and future

Asking with every joke, how?

To the reply of saline scribbles and

Custard smudged grins.