wander-mind

little brother//youngest son swathed in sheets in the hospital bed, a skinny silkworm of a boy in a cocoon of restless lethargy and the gentle murmurings of pain which come to him even in sleep- he dreams of agony like a quiet groping hand which tugs on his elbow in the crowd, whispering -do you know me?- as if he is the only one who hears. we are quite prepared to believe that he is the only one who feels pain in the whole hospital; have no sorrow or sympathy to share and cannot bear to see these other children, all nothing but chalkdust smears on the pillows which offer no comfort, casting shadows they have not earned. a ward fu

April 19th  we’re having fruit salad for dinner. well, when i say fruit salad i mean it’s mostly grapes. pretty much all grapes, really. fermented grapes. wine. we’re having wine for dinner.