He Watched

Toward the top of the hour,
he stood on the floor
of the hospital room
and looked her in one eye.

One eye
looked back
as blue as a wound
or a memory.

Her memory fell into
a cavern and landed softly
on stony ground, untouched
and unmarked by rocks.

Those rocks rose and fell,
rose and fell as if
waves willfully tossed them at her skin
and caught them as they returned.

He stood in the doorway
of a hospital room
and counted those rocks —
one, two, three — as they fell

ordinarily on a linoleum floor
and clattered as they landed
on a memory, on her skin;
her skin, her malleable skin.

He watched them for hours
as they fell as stars fell upon her.
Turned away crying, crying out.
He watched them fall. He watched,

and sobbed himself dry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T