Memory 8

That Christmas
(the one when you didn't die)
a crane sat in the hospital parking lot.

With tiny white lights,
someone had fashioned a heart
on each side of its arms.
I remember being very cold.

Heart. Crane.
I kept saying over and over again,
sitting in my car, the heat blaring,
Heart. Crane. Heart.
I rolled it like a Gobstopper over my tongue.
Waiting for it to--(Crane.)--
melt.

No, I said weeks later,
correcting a woman who may
as well have been a stranger.
Not the kind with wings.
Just a crane crane.

The kind that lifts and lowers.
Does its work.
Lifts again.