Valentine’s Visit
She’ll always be glad she brought him tulips —
A bright smear of red hope
Against nine below cold,
Frosting the window opaque.
And grey walls,
With pools of shadow in corners,
Untouched by fluorescence.
He is back from the hospital
To his own room in the nursing home,
Incontinent, sunken jawed,
And muttering gibberish–
This grandfather who was so smart,
So full of stories.
Tears stream down her face;
Her young man holds her hand,
And says nothing.
Nothing needs to be said.
The old man doesn’t open his eyes,
But he nods,
Seal of approval, he says,
Making sense,
Meaning the tall boy.
Like to break all records,
New Hampshire forecaster intones–
Worse cold in memory.
Her fingers ache from it…
From both.
It’s a bitter night,
But she’ll always be glad
She brought him tulips.
