…nine am
eerie silence
between four dimensional glass walls
echoes
bounces back on stone partitions
whispers
easily sneaks through gaps of hinged doors
of neonatal ward
where preterm tiny sacks of flesh
breathe paid oxygen…
…five past nine
three generations
all female
walk in
the last one
maturing premature
coo coos
saying
not still
not still
at one and half kilogram…
…seven past nine
another infant gurgles in
dangling on aging man’s left arm
quite soon
hunger tickles his funny bone
and it gurgles louder
a middle aged woman
infants mother
plucks and cuddles him
to her left breast…
…nine past nine
gurgling fastens
as crossed eyes
meddle between hunger and feeder breast…
…ten past nine
“…this is when; my scalpel’s edge shivered whilst dissecting preterm agony…”
recalls maturing baby doctor
peeping through green OT mask
agonized
stands still
drops his pet knife
that clinking sound awakens third generation with a cry…
…fifty-nine past nine
lazy hour hand
quickly jumps a minute
to make it exact ten…
