Complications

"I may be dead"
and now you are in a hospital bed
not dead, just lying, sleeping
drowning in fluids drained
from wounds and holes
tubes bubble slowly a lowly tune
and you moan.
The pain remains
every position gains new pain

I turn to go. You seem less okay than yesterday.
You know. You fear the doctors may wish to
send you home.

I turn away, a small kiss betrays
the nervous thought that you may
be in here longer than we thought.

The grounds are lovely. Well-trimmed green.
You should be able to walk slowly through shortly.
Give it a few days, I say, to nobody. Tears rubbed away.