soft white bread
chilled turkey
iced snapping lettuce.
safety in comfort.

i take a bite.

yesterday,
lunch was
homemade.
the same sandwich.
no haunting
silence.
no stinging
sirens.

a fragile shaking smile.
eyes flutter like
struggling butterflies.
get well
cards loom like skywriters.
he's half shaved,
vulnerable.

another bite.
trapped in food and fear.

it's no one's fault,
what the brain grows.
ideas, hopes,
tumors.

i regret mindless frets.
don't want neighbors' food.
don't want plastic wrap.
or vending machines.
because lettuce
won't let us survive.

i just want dad.
looking at me,
asking
if I'd like
one more
turkey sandwich.