I clutch little baby hands, his body wrapped in a hospital sheet.
It’s blue and red – much like his skin; my baby.
His face is the image of peace, but there’s something
not right in the silence of it all. They take him and hide him
away from my desperate eyes, but it’s a loud silence
that has my whole chest-bursting at the ribs.
I beg every god I know that he might breathe.
For me.
Please.