Little hands squeezing dad’s
unbelieving fingers
as a steady stream of tears fill her pond on blue linen
it’s hot in here
and the machines are
silent
a clock hangs on the wall
ticking away at eternity
emergencies are dealt with behind
staff room doors where
smiles and laughter
fill a sterilized hallway
her complexion
pale
with eyes dilated in
pain
and her fragile body lies on a table
decorated in white
except her blue pond
a black and white picture
illuminated with a bright light
boasts of my
unbelief
unserious…ness
and lack of concern for what was taken
so lightly
fear trickles down her cheeks
making my apologies
distant
and my compassion is heard with
hesitation
the damn clock is still
ticking
amused with its own hands
showing off its arrogant
face
and proving my inability
to rewind time
and remove her doubt.