
In the flat hand of glass
Reflects an outside world
Cold Winter sun calls through curtains
patient window pane lover
trees lose last of their leaves
surrendering to unclothed nakedness with the bravery of a wedding night
disiduous remain full, evoking woody balsam and night spore
surviving knife’s turn in weather
holding heat and color in humbled defeat of season
much like humanity
some can bearly stand the ravage
others seem to make a game of it
sustaining themselves on pride of survivorship
not long ago
I was a tree who lost her green
standing frail and nude
cold uneven feet on linoleum
my insides dissected by machines and tubes
the absurdity of being in pain and still
apologising to the technician
for my exposure, those things I had not adequately prepared
for who shaves their legs to ride in an ambulance?
or waxes bikini line in preparation for colonoscopy?
more men in my cavities than my entire sex life
humor in the macabre on the edge of the world
as all is falling around, the condemned laugh
I think of people fucking in hospitals and
it strikes me as the sanest response
take a stranger’s hand, strike your name on the dance card
feel the strong beat of their heart even as
their valium eyes tell you other stories
we escaped just, but we escaped
touch me where I was piecemeal
finger my edges with your need to validate
desire swells when we don’t die of our maladies
to feel once more, the warm assurance of another
weighing us back to earth
80 pounds, 90, 100, we climb through mist
to gain entrance
I sat in the coffee tinged dayroom
the same sun, the same season, a year ago
what a difference a year makes
then I was as light weight as a dry leaf
last fat pealing off me like a hot coat
nurses, seeing my bones, were mothering to me
they did not know how much that meant
because I have honed the art
of never showing my true feelings
I could be smiling as I wept inside
and you would only remark, how bright your eyes
illuminate the darkness, my love, my love, my love
which is why I need to dance
it is the only time, I am myself
aside when sexing the cherry and that I cannot speak of
for I hardly recall, what it feels like to be held
only the sheer joy of remembering touch
a hand reaching through blizzard
the nurse brought me breakfast
sat me in the iron wrought chair
in a soft voice asked me to try to eat
her caring eyes were my feast
it had been so long since anyone saw me
crumbling beneath my layers, sickness
devouring will
the illness brought me out of my exile
heart thundering
where you had placed your sharp arrows
all of you, who used me for target practice
did you think I hadn’t noticed?
I’ve been your punching bag longer than memory
it’s hard not to fight back, but I stand alone either course taken
so I packed my bags and sailed away
just to stop hurting, the ribbons of life lines
each year grief-stricken like those fish you got
in Christmas crackers, good Jews we weren’t
that curled on your outstretched palm
one direction meant fickle love, the other,
who knew? I was always left-handed
wherever you go, there you are
still injured, the pain lingering like unrepentant stain
a dying man sat down, began telling me his life
he said I was beautiful, did I want a date?
both of us in our backless gowns, how absurd
parody of finer times, when you took me in your arms
spun me around, bit my neck, caressing the
pulse
soon enough, early snow fell, sun still shone
I told myself you were waiting for me, when I got out
but you had lost your mind, many years ago
you didn’t mean any of it, those years didn’t exist
they were flakes of water turned to ice
deceptively beautiful
afterward, I drove over the speed limit, windows down
just to remind myself I was alive
but alive for what? To fall and empty myself in therapies chair
to have so much to say and nothing to share?
secrets in their eyes, glittering there
like drops of Winter, another year passing
how our roles change and still hurting
a nurse put her hand on my shoulder
don’t give up, she bent her lips to my cheek
kissed me like my mother did
once, when I was a good child
feeling in my belly, the sickness and defile
of many months lost and found
where are you now? In the woods?
as the sun sets and night falls
ushering creatures from their lairs
I walk beneath the moon and think
of how I am alone, wherever I am
giving up the part of my heart
who always hoped
I feel I have been awake a year
tossing and turning, reaching for
your touch like a thirsting pilgrim
lost in nightshade
you were never
there
only the moon and those sounds
made in silence
as we live and we age and soon
we return to earth
what we take with us
the memories of
wanting you like
flame burns wood
to create brightness
even as they both lived
one must consume other
in this mad
world
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