Coughing and murmuring, and softly crying,
His distress trumpeted me,
Up from my double-breasted bed,
And led me to his room.

In eyes, not fully fixed,
He looked, I think, at me,
And spoke a phrase-both lost and found-
"I want to go home."

I took him in my arms
And rubbed his back
And homed him into father and to son
As both, for now, we found our place.

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