hospiter

i guess i'm kinda like an old furnace.
overheating
and plagued by fatigue
i crawl up the stairs of my parents house.
it's the second day of summer.

yesterday i was at the hospital;
it wasn't me who was sick.

all i could do in the hospital
was stare into his eyes.
they're jade, but not as matte,
nor as cold.
they're brown right at the pupil.
cooked a bit, i think,
from seeing the truth in the world.

he's been in some pain.

three times is the count
in the past few months.
i've driven him going eighty, twice.
this time we were apart.

he was transported by ambulance.

in my car on the way there
i had body crawling jitters.
i needed to control my breathing.
in, out.
in, out.

after some time, he needed a CAT scan.
i was still looking into his eyes.

they wheeled him out.

i was alone in the bright room,
now big with his absence.
the light bulbs mocked me.

in that moment, in my mind,
i perused the thought of him not returning.
i imagined the nurse arriving empty-handed
having stolen my love away.

i would have killed her.

the minutes elongated.
the room breathed.
i stared at things.
anything.

and then i heard his voice.
distant,
but there.