In his second-best shirt|
and water-slicked hair
he tentatively enters.
On his face are written
the grasshoppers in his stomach.
The hospital elicits his every fear and sickness
and pales his face.
Through the long tortuous hall
he walks, avoiding the sterile white walls.
Smells of medicine, and urine, and old
are new to him. The lump in his throat
enlarges as his bravery struggles to keep
his tears in check.
His grandfather sits, still, and white as flour,