the cold vein of IV brushes my face
it awakens me to my father's tippity-tap to his workers far away
the muted news channel on the screen by my shaved head
that shows the face of the most hated man, now dead.

i understand now that doctors are not soulless.
though they may talk too much
    and are as funny as moss.
'cuz when he asked if there was anything else bothering me,
    he looked for an extra second.