Please Use Your Catheter
Her hair leans up against the pillow,
Silver strands sticking in slow Ss,
thicker each post-op day.
Delirium with eyes half-closed, she once was.
Lean in and claw would catch
a wrist, to make it stay.
Sometimes, before the blinds knew morning
this feline flirt could topple progress notes
with a polished tease.
Now my eyes are tied
to her earliest habit
and defiant mane.
Please, let me get up.
I want to go to the bathroom.