Untie the cotton gown before
the eyes roll back.

            Oxygen machines its breath
into your sleeping form.
 
            When I turn blue
remember me as sky.
 
            White I am sky,
cellulose, leaf-like.
 
            Membrane displayed as
a trail of snowflakes
 
            or row of skirted dolls
(with kissing knees).

            Days in a day. Hours
scissor through me.
 
            The promise of forever
at the end of every line
 
            my hands write, wait
many fingered.