Chocolate Fudge

 

Chocolate Fudge

Gently we shake the quilt,
wake the boy who sleeps with
Chocolate Fudge, a bear.
Through dark streets we drive
silent bear and wide-eyed boy
without a sip of water or bite of food.

We act normal as if there is a normal
while in a bright room the nurse offers
boy and bear a choice of gowns,
blue or white. Choices—
we wish for more.

Nurse lets the boy push the big button
opening double metal doors to surgery.
In his too-large blue paper gown,
blue paper slippers, hair sticking up as usual,
he enters, pivots toward us—a quick
goodbye wave—a smile. Doors close
with a sound like a gulp.

We hold Chocolate Fudge
wrapped with blue crinkly gown
in a grip so fierce he might die.

…..

First published in Sheila-Na-Gig. Thank you editor Hayley Mitchell Haugen.

Note: Boy and bear, now age 43, are fine. They are also fine musicians. The instrument the bear is playing is an electric mandolin, built by boy long ago. 

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