what do you tell the woman
perched by her child's bed
singing a lullaby to the asleep
turbid sponging the cold

the man wraps fingers with her in strength
clutched to a portrait of deity and a rosary
they pray
for their only child, cause you see no other

she declines to eat
she refuses getting clean
perhaps she's fasting
for a scarce medical miracle

but little Angelica fell hard
a sweet child she would be
even as she lay still
a subtle smile plays on her face

already in a better place.