In Sickness and in War

Now I tuck you in. Your hands
are warmer today.
Your vitamins are helping.

I look at your eyes rem-sleeping,
the meadow of your dreams
grows wider than our bed.
Stars queue in your sky, the way
mothers with hungry children would do,
for subsidized breadcrumbs.

Now, the morning is due in an hour.

They could never ration
the light of your laughter.