Tommy

 

I.

 

the hours the houses now

liquid inhale, the white

walls oscillating to

olive to fluorescent

laundry fluid blue,

the sun rising

setting.

 

time, you can only take so long

I will blame you.

 

II.

 

with eyes, searching the room

for people

for voices of people

 

we hold them

tell them to let go

we mean, “I wish”

 

and

 

“it’s ok”

I too have

 

no answers. like children

we are still children.

 

III.

 

each breath, air-gasped

grasping to fill morphine-groan with

eyebrows pointing furiously at themselves

 

we only know how to be living.

 

it’s ok, we all love you. the infamous

echo in antiseptic room

 

and like a child,

say the words

the IVs drip chronically now

valium silence blankets

room, noise mimics

breathing. we cannot catch

our own until you can not.

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for Tommy Dalton