The telephone continues to ring.
It's not that no one wants to answer it,
Or that the call doesn't want to be answered,
But everyone in this room has busy hands.

The mother's fists beating
Her breathing son's chest and his hands
Tearing at the hair on his head.
The nurse's hands pressing
The silent brother's chest. The nurse's hands pressing
The silent brother's chest. The nurse's hands pressing
The silent brother's chest.
The orderly's hands guiding the mother
And her breathing son into the hall.

The doctor's hands are just     too     slick.

The telephone continues to ring.
Ring. Ring. Ring.