Discharge Papers

The nurse tied the knot with a clinical snap,

a double-loop hitch at the base of my skull.

Now my fingers are thick, fumbling the strings,

trying to remember how to be a person again.

The cotton is thin, washed into a softness

that feels like it’s giving up on being fabric.

Those blue snowflakes are faded to ghosts,

drifting across my ribs in a pattern of loss.

I pull the ties loose and the draft hits my spine,

a cold reminder of how much I’ve been seen.

I’m leaving the bed but I’m keeping the chill,

standing in my own shoes, feeling the floor.