Untie the cotton gown before the eyes roll back. Oxygen machines its breath into your sleeping form. When I turn blue remember me as sky. White I am sky, cellulose, leaf-like. Membrane displayed as a trail of snowflakes or row of skirted dolls (with kissing knees). Days in a day. Hours scissor through me. The promise of forever at the end of every line my hands write, wait many fingered.