Yahrzeit

As I step out of the hospital
I am swallowed
By the late August's sweltering heat.

It is Labor Day Weekend.
The streets feel panting
From heat exhaustion.

The street-fair is over
With vendors pulling away
With their unsold wares.

There is one late packer
At the end of the block.
A woman with a child in her arms.

I approach her stall.
On the clothe-tree hangs a shirt:
It's pulsating candy-stripes ablaze.

How much?

I buy it and I am
On my way back into the hospital.

In the room everything is quiet..
But not for too long..
The sedation is wearing off.

"What do you have in the bag?"
I bought a shirt at the street fair.
"Let me see it, put it on"

I do it.

"It's really good looking"

The room is quiet again..
She interrupts the stillness:
"I am cold"

"I am cold. That shirt looks
Like a warm shirt,
Take it off, let me have it"

I wrap her into the shirt,
she is lost in it. I tuck it under
her hips with a gentle squeeze.

The room is filled with stillness

. . . . . . . . .

From time to time
The shirt is laundered freshly;
As I put it on the hanger
my fingers searching for the
Candy stripes
and groping for the collar.

There is a label on the collar
that reads:
"Getaway shirt"
"100% cotton"
...
I hang it in the closet gently.

Elul 16, 5762
Frank Sutton