by Brenna Brucker
Chicken legs
sprout
from the hospital frock
these itsy legs
shroud
in heavy wool socks
scurrying
double-time
from room-bed to chair
impervious to visitor
master of lair
He in
his chamber
now seated at bed
glares at my coat
slight cock
of his head
I spout out my jargon
his eyes
dart away
with wordless acceptance of his protracted stay
I, new intruder
in this
unnatural nest
know not how to soothe
man's rage and unrest
and though my own legs
are weary
and ache
he would trade all his treasures
for my place to take
