In The Hospital

He seemed to want to kiss me on the mouth

but couldn’t. I didn’t; kissed his cheek instead.

I said: You’re as hot as a pistol.

He said: Am I?

I said: I’ll see you in the morning.

Then he was left facing a long night:

with the facts of cancer and cancer drugs,

the hospital room as stark as torture,

the IV dripping, and checks on his vitals

every thirty minutes. It would not be rest.

My own little son!

now a fully grown man.

I wished I had given him a better kiss.