day three

my boy. face down in bathwater again. blue and limp. only three days since his last seizure. the likely culprit: one jagged quarter of a chalky white benzodiazepine tablet he isn't getting anymore.

snow. in shady places there's still some on the ground. naked branches are just beginning to bud, their crooked shadows raking withered crocuses.

rudy the dog. all of a sudden—and yet not—completely lame. thinning and incontinent but still happy. enjoying his favorite sunny spot in the front yard watching the world go by, living what might be his final moments as if there is no tomorrow.

the birds. flitting around, twigs and grasses pinched in their beaks. alighting on quivering boughs to sing my mind away from things disconcerting.

me: sleep deprived and feeling it in my bones, in aching eyes. trying hard not to worry over my boy. pursuing a high CBD cannabis oil. who to make it? what extraction method? who to trust? which substrate? who is reliable for the long haul? will it help calvin?

my boy. napping now. it's where i need to be, too. we used to nap together. at home. in the hospital.

tomorrow. will be a new day.

photo by Michael Kolster

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