Sight

Something in her

Sees before she’s told.

It’s not even a full minute

Since I hung up with her father

Hearing hard news

That she’s out of bed.

“I’m seeing them again,” she says.

“I close my eyes and they’re close,

And then far away.

They’re people but all of these points of light.

I can’t sleep.

When I close my eyes, they’re there.”

Eventually she falls asleep in my arms,

Rainbow Bear safe in hers.

My logical brain always fights it

(I can reason she’s only seeing things,

As she did once before,

At the beginning of another illness,

When clearly her feverish eyes

Saw something in the tall mirror of my dresser

That I could not,

And that this time

It’s only

This hateful stomach bug

Making its final departure)

But I can’t help but think

Another angel’s been added to her team.

This one seems to have put up quite a fight.