Glimpses of Alive

We catch glimpses of alive

Kaleidoscopes through color leaves in the dusty, dusky hospital skylight

(is it light or is it dirt?)

We catch glimpses of alive

In half dead fingers

And swollen leg handshakes

And a surreptitious squeeze

(is it a spine reflex or a heart reflex?)

We catch glimpses of alive

In paused egg timers

And extra moments hearing of her grand baby’s palpitating pink sprinkle birthday cake

And his gasping blue fishing boat treasures in a bottle

We catch glimpses of alive

In stolen gray tears behind the ambulance bay

(Siren? sob? siren? sob?)

We catch glimpses of alive

At the bottom of a watery coffee cup

And in the droopy scoopy masked up eyes

Looking at you. Here. Now.