You‘re in dream after dream.
Tonight, the doctor sighed, walked away
but I stood there, whispering,
Love, you can do it. You can!
You always said, I saved you
said I had that power.
Although you are gone eight months
I sleep with you nightly.
I see you smile. I’m sure you’re smiling.
Your bed rises, sails out the hospital window
I know you are steering for home.
Your bed hovers over our fenced garden.
rises above the chain link fence,
where red roses have entwined,
your bed rises higher, above the pyracantha
then levitates…hovering like a drone.
I grab your bedrails to bring you in
the damned thorns tear my skin.
their razor cuts make my hand jump back.
I need to be closer, search for the gate
but your bed shrinks to doll size
veers crazily, a cranked up toy.
Stretching my arms,
stretching beyond their length,
I reach over the fence
bruised and bloodied, my fingers straining, their bones shining,
I shout, “Hurry! Give me your hand!”
My lips murmur, can save you, can still save you.
then scream, “Give me your hand! NOW!”