Sarcoma

The bulbs burst and fixtures fell out
And I knew he left even though he was there
He was breathing
He was heaving
Can I touch you? Can I talk to you?
I shook him I hugged him
I called out to him
I am here, we are all here,
And then we’re not
We’re blind, we’re measured,
We’re clubbed white hands and stilted airflow,
We’re the signs you said you’d send
Like sprouted seedlings, like buzzing dragonflies,
Like footprints, like canoes, like whipping winds
Where are the signs?
I asked for signs!
I’ve been standing guard, I’ve been open,
I’m receptive, I’m attentive,
I’m listening, I’m screaming,
You’re not going to die, you’re not going to die,
But you are going to die
And we’re all going to watch
And we’ll wake and we’ll bury and we’ll pray
And we’ll proceed, and we’ll toss flowers
And leave gloves and say words and
Shake hands
And you’ll still die
But I’ll meet you at the mailbox.

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