Lamp bedsheets are shed Egyptian wrappings forgotten in a hospital
tomb. Tear this trauma and cease the meticulous beating of machinery,
its presence overpowering in the face of demise. How many stitches
to stem the flow of life-blood? Hours spent in a gymnasium as a toddler.
Fingers tied as a ribbon on the gift of life; each breath shuddering, tempest
winds disturbing the stillness of death.