vanilla pudding

you break off
a piece
of white bread,
a tiny sliver
of grey
hospital turkey,
you move
it towards
her mouth,
she opens.
a bird small
and weak
in the nest
of pillows
and white sheets.
more, you ask,
making her nod
no, no.
but then a spoon
of pudding
touches
her lips
and she smiles,
and nods
yes, opening
as wide
as she can
with laughing
eyes.