You sit on life support,
"get well" messages being posted on your wall
by the second.
A Christmas gift
for the whole family.

It's reminiscent of the kid who ran away last summer,
telling his parents "Ma and pa I'm bailing"
then running through the desert
barefoot.

I'm sorry you're suffering,
I really am,
for all the Hospital muffins
your mother has to eat.

You're running barefoot
over the lake, stranded
in a basin, wondering
whether you should go up or down.

Freaking out, silently and contained,
knowing that soon your soul and body
won't be recovered
and you'll be alone.

Don't worry,
once you drown,
your body
will still be floating.