Hard-boiled sun wobbles off the bony wrists
of day to land in the blistered courtyard,
while a bruised howl echoes down this hallway,
walls a color so vague it’s forgotten
its own name, the shade of fear when it
feels boxed in, or uncertainty’s brittle crust.
Used face masks are scattered like so many thieves.
Residents speak with missing tongues,
the relentless loud beep of calls
for help, the crinkling sound of visitors
shrinking into their own shadows,
unrecognized by the one they love,
the sound of a single, jagged breath
as someone rises up to follow
a path of stars.