nine am

…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 a half kilograms…

…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 the third generation with a cry…

…fifty-nine past nine

lazy hour hand

quickly jumps a minute

to make it exact ten…