In The Hospital

As he lay in his hospital bed, I approached 

to say good night, and it seemed he might

have liked me to give him a kiss on the mouth,

but I kissed only his cheek and 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 to face a long night:

with the facts of cancer and cancer drugs,

the hospital room as stark as torture,

the IV dripping away like a sentence,

checks on his vitals every thirty minutes. 

It would not be in any way rest.

My own little son, now a fully grown man!

I wished I had given him a better kiss.