He said, “Honey, I’m so sorry but we can’t fight this.”
Across the street from this place in 1978 there was a little moment of paradise
a new cherry tree and a silly baby wearing her father’s leather gloves as slippers
There were once ocean dreams
rising over thoughtful flower gardens
But the hazardous body
does what the body wants and
a slow smoke had entered to stay.
He said, “Honey, you’re not going to make it out of here.”
She was soft
She was stalling
She definitively ordered,
“Resolve All Issues.”
She’s grey
with blue light
pulsing every last bit of life
around her final room
We feel our own floating feet
see her clear eyes
trapped under a breathing machine
She only wants a cold icy drink
and peace for the people she’s leaving
Give her what you can
Give her what you can
Heartshapedsky 