Rose-blood

Today you almost died.

The car wrapped around you
Like silver, jagged arms
Wanting what was mine
Since you were an infant.

That's all they told me.
You were lifted from the scene
By the indifferent, whirring hands of a chopper.
I searched frantically for you,
Calling hospital after hospital,
But to no avail.

And in those few hours
I assumed the worst.
But business was happening
Frantically around me.
There was no time
To sit quietly in a grove of quiet trees
Listening to the birds and the lonesome wind

To watch butterflies flitting
And feel and know
Fully your absence

The fact I have known since the day of your birth
That I do not want to live
Without you here.

Only in the way
Of cars and phone calls and credit cards
Was I pulled from death.

Instead, I finally found you
In a white hospital bed,
Bruised and battered and stitched
Doll, the most darkly beautiful sight
I have ever seen, swollen everywhere.

Hours later, I gently wash your matted hair.
The water in the bucket turns burgundy.
And as you sleep, I walk the silver,
Silent corridors for snacks for you

But collapse in a chair
My face falling into the dark of my hands
Eyes and arms shivering

The scent of roses and your blood
Still cloying on my fingers.