Visiting time is from 9 until noon
3 hours to sit and resist the urge to waggle his tubes
3 hours counting
The pattern repetitions on the in-patient gowns
3 hours plastering
Weak smiles over deeply cut frowns
3 hours to fret and fit and squirm and twist and request they reposition him
Because he looks uncomfortable
3 hours trying not to look uncomfortable
3 hours of endless chit chat with a parade of distant relatives
We enemies of solemnity
Renounce all brevity
And instead proceed to unleash a stream of disposable, perfunctory junk food words
Principally concerning the parking situation
The smallest of conversation next to bleeping respirators
If he can hear all this then there's no doubt that he must hate us by now
But how else
Are we supposed to pretend
That none of this is really happening?
He interrupts our babbling
Issues some moribund mumbling
Semi-conscious fumbling
Squeezes a hand triumphantly
We stroke his hair
And spend the next 2 hours hoping
This won’t be the last hour we ever share