Doctor says the voices
will someday go away,
but I don’t mind.
Sometimes they scare me, with
the way my heart rattles - a can
rolling in the back of a van
around a very fast turn.
But this is only because they are very
scared.
I know it’s true.
And when they are silent,
I like to picture them like
sleeping dragons.
I tuck them in, and
kiss their hot foreheads goodnight.
The scales feel like glass beneath
my lips,
And I think of just how fragile they are…
…just how gentle I must be.

The hospital is dreary;
my bed is a comfortable
prison.
But the voices, some of them anyway,
make each day a carnival, and
nighttime has always been an adventure.

Mother sleeps in the chair
most nights. But it is
the voices who tickle my toes
and make my heart giggle
in the dead of night.

Doctor says I’m dying, but the
voices laughed at that.
I don’t know, myself. Sometimes
my hand flickers in the
moonlight, and
I can feel them tugging.
“Nobody else listens,” they say,
“No one else has ever kissed
our heads goodnight.”

If I die, who would listen to
my sweet and frightened voices?

Doctor says I’m dying.

Nurses say I need to smile,
(as if lying is good for my health).

Mother saying I’m fading
(in whispers behind curtains,
so I will not hear her despair).

Father says I’m very brave,
(even though his eyes
are very scared).

Sister says she’ll miss me.

Brother says nothing, only stares.
He’s one.

All these voices echo, and some days I just
want to be alone.
Just me and my own voices - not theirs.

+

Darling says the voices
are getting louder.
She turns away from me
when I try to smooth her hair.
Her eyes are accusation
for the moment that they rest
on me.

Darling doesn’t eat.
She murmurs and laughs in
her sleep,
waking me. This chair is not
for sleeping.

Darling is fading.

+

“Hi.”

“My name is Albert.
You can’t see me now, but
I have blue fur,
and my eyes are whatever color
you want them to be.
I’m here to make the voices go away.”

“Which ones?”

“The ones that break your heart.”

“Okay.

You are one of the voices that
I love, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

+

Darling’s bed is empty.
Doctor says the cameras
cannot find any trace of her last night.
I am lost.

The sheets are folded neatly,
but I did not wake.

+

Albert says we can play here
forever.
There are no hospitals, no beds,
and the sun always shines, until
I kiss it goodnight.
I like it here, with my frightened friends.

I met George and Annie and Bob, and the
funny one with sixteen horns.
I call him Poke.

Oh.
And the voices are gone.