By Michal Mahgerefteh
Since midnight,
no place to sleep
just a coffee machine
with no sugar or cream.
My fear tightened,
I rushed to his room
through hallways that
smelled dry and sour.
With urgency, two nurses
led me to a wooden chair
by his bed, and I so wanted
to hold his tiny body;
so weak and tender like
a seedling soft and pliant
dressed in colorful tubes
and straps and needles.
I kissed him on his
lips and cried. I cried
so intensely I almost
burned in that cry.
Into his chest I leaned
my blood and wishes,
so truly so lovingly
’til all my limbs idled.
Michal Mahgerefteh is an award-winning poet and artist from Virginia. She is the author of four poetry chapbooks, with two forthcoming in 2022. Michal is the managing editor of Poetica Magazine and Mizmor Anthology.