Voices from the Residents

These are days of hugs not given or

It pumps until it pumps no more,

My daughter twirls in her pink confetti

What ordinary miracles I witness each

He unbuttons his shirt.

The weight of my words and your

Beep beep bee–. Slap. Groan. Fumble.

When I close my eyes, your frozen full-

Name, department, function

One little boy, AFOs ill-fitting, wild child,

Hearts on the wall for Valentine’s Day.

She can’t stay seated, fake lashes

Static

“Thinking is pain,” my patient muses flatly

There was

dimly lit and windowless,

“How are you?”

“Anything we can get for you?”

The stage is set