by Amy Domeyer-Klenske, '12

Heavier than I ever expected. 
As I lift the chin and thrust the jaw, 
Like Winston Churchill sniffing 
The morning air, 
Or a glass of brandy, 
And I, 
Trying to breath 
For the one lying on the table. 
Paralyzed: 
The hand stops twitching. 
The eyes don’t flutter to touch. 
Pass the tube through the cords, 
White and glistening. 
The chest rises and falls. 
The monitor traces its curve. 
And the sound of breath, 
Its gentle ebb and flow.