15 New Bethlehem Street
When you were a boy,
little but getting bigger each day,
Did you watch as your siblings vomited,
sweated, struggled to breathe;
as your mother cowered beneath their blanket screams,
wept from within insomniac night-nets strewn together –
their mucous, urine, sour milk;
as she gasped against airless, pillow stuffing frailty
filling her lungs, trying to call for
now that you’re grown.
Did you heal sick children, then?
Would you please, hold the baby, now?