
I clutch little baby hands, his body wrapped in a hospital sheet.
Itās blue and red ā much like his skin; my baby.
His face is the image of peace, but thereās something
not right in the silence of it all. They take him and hide him
away from my desperate eyes, but itās 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.