Arthur
His toe was blacker
than some hearts,
his heart sicker than he knew.
He slept peacefully in the chair
all twisted like corkscrew willow.
"Bring back with patient",
read the sticker on a folder
he clutched with both hands
like an only possession.
It fell away.
I caught it
but held my breath,
a young boy, afraid to catch
the age that brought him here
with his black toe
and grey hair.
I saw him again in November.
His leg was gone.
I helped him put on his coat.
I never saw him again.
