And That I Love You Poem by Will Thomas

This boy,
seven years old,
in this bed,
tubes and machines
moving in and out of his body,

turning over and over,
twisting covers,
and grabbing gray metal bars,

seeking any position
that doesn't hurt,

this kid
whom I have to stop
nine or ten times during dinner
to remind him to concentrate
more on the roast beef
and less on talking,

this kid is quiet.

Silver-blue phantoms
(Bugs Bunny and Lucy Ricardo)
fade in and out,
flicker across a machine mounted on the wall

-dancing-

This kid does not notice.

And I am here,
holding a green plastic tray
in case he has to vomit,
plaguing him with the same stupid questions:
are you in pain?
how do you feel?
do you know that I'm here
and that I love you?

And I am here,
feeling pretty damn useless
in the business of lessening pain.

Boy,
kid,
quiet kid,
it's me.

Do you know that I'm here
and that I love you?