ladybugs crawling swarming on the ceilings
a torn pancreas
the herbs from her garden
severed arm and foot,
flowers blooming in November, funneling a hose out the window to water them
remodeling the bathroom
poetry as a source of comfort
human death as animal death
choreography of the wrist of the mouth of the face
Seven meteors fell across my face in the last five days I saw you.
You were not your curled chemo body, you were radiating your self deeper into us
& changing our DNA, the unexpected reaction you have after cortisol dread,
Our telomeres shortened as we waited, malnourished, feeling of separation, of chromosomes fraying, getting sticky.
Exiting, you sublimated unready, collected
in thick the thick fog that would have been outright cinematic
to anyone not in shock. The mirrors in German Shepherd eyes,
our quiet words. I am positive I told you how much I love fog.
How you’d love us walking in it.
We’re not held together by anything but atomic force. Mostly space, we are empty forces clinging to one another in preference to nothing else.