marie

her feet,
still swollen, are
propped up on a stool
by one of the nurses,
they are wrapped
in striped Christmas
socks despite
it being mid july.
her blue slacks,
and flowered blouse,
misbuttoned, hangs
loosely on
her ever aging body.
the venom is
out of her tongue,
the fight is out of
her bones. the lines
of worry have slipped
almost all away.
there is the sweet
gentle smile of a child,
returning your
smile as they like to do.
the workers
call her marie, come here
Marie, let me
tie your shoes,
eat your vegetables,
chew your food.