Every Voice becomes his
Moments of waiting for the right time
I hear the words that I want
Adventures in illness
With one misstep, a blunder begins
I don’t belong here yet I remember
Still I succumb to process
What delays us and why
Every whisper, every voice
Every face becomes his
I wish for them to be mine
A voice next door and steps go elsewhere
Where is my space in the septic respite
There will be no time for a warm embrace
Only: “I like your sneaker”
words shallow forgiven at once
Inside I laugh, is this the connection
I’m left with his compliment of nothing
Hospital gowns wrap me in undefined fog.
I’m only a number distinguished by my shoes.
