By Luke Unger
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,
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.