All day I am crammed into this room. Gawking at the wires, prodding snakes tracing my arms. My joints plough into the sheets & the machines above waver & whimper, like shadows in the wind. Years before, I was always by the porch. I’d stare past the lawn, past the streets, where the valleys seemed to swell upwards breath by breath. Now, here, time moves a little faster. This is a life where each day trudges along with apology— clamor out in the hallway, a crowd of trolleys hiccuping across the linoleum. & I am still here, waiting for the nights to quiet & cradle me to sleep.