Vasishta

Lito's Eyes

Pale blue eyes like a newborn I fed him chocolate ice cream his favorite. Tubes locked into his nose a noose of oxygen forcing lungs to gasp for air as his purple skin soft but wrinkly crust over barnacles on a sinking ship. Linoleum floor, fake wood cramped little hospital room TV too loud whiteboard yelling “DNR” but he remembers me. If you could go anywhere in the world Where would you go? Home. Hospice nurse scrolling on her phone while death rattles tongue twitches last bit of strength courses through his bony fingers till he lets go.