The walls are made from mossy rough blankets,
buttressed by lumpy pillows.
The flashlight, stolen from the nurse's pocket,
casts yellow moonlight to help him survey the land.  

There's a lot growing in these woods
the roves of blood thirsty IV tubes,
the constant clatter from distant lands
piped through the TV from the next door over.

The prognosis is bad,
but he doesn't care
He's protected here,
in his cradled form,
still exploring even as
he takes his last breaths,
ready to conquer new lands.