The last time the doctors gave up
I put the pieces together
and bought him a blue wool jacket, a shirt
and a tie with scribbles of magenta,
brown buckle shoes. I dressed him
and sat him down
with a hankie in his pocket folded into points.
Then a shell knit slowly
over his sad starched heart.
He'd laugh and dangle his long legs and call out,
What a fall that was!
And I'd sing the refrain,
What a fall!
And now he's at my door again, begging
in that leaky voice,
and I start wiping the smear
from his broken face.