Fallout (Crank 3)

in for too many hours, wander

down to Kyle’s room, peek through

the door. Kyle snorts in his sleep.

God, he’s cute, tangled in dreams,

a thick drift of hair across his face.

Whatever happens to me, I hope

he doesn’t get into too much trouble.

TWO NURSES HUSTLE PAST

Laughing about something.

The noise rousts Kyle from

wherever sleep has led him.

He yawns as his eyes open, try

to make sense of the surroundings.

Finally they focus on me. Hey.

He smiles. Tries to sit up in bed.

And then reality crashes around him.

Come over here. What time is it?

I point to the large clock on the wall.

“Little hand on the seven, big hand

on the five.” I draw alongside the bed.

He reaches for me, winces. Okay.

That hurt a little. Pain or no pain,

he takes hold of my hand. Squeezes.

And it hits me that we may not be

holding hands again for some time

to come. My throat knots up

and my eyes burn. Kyle notices.

Hey, now. Everything’s okay. Well,

except for a couple of broken bones.

Tears begin to fall in earnest.