Tuesday, March 22, 2011


can we have no more
talk of cancer,

no mention of hearts
unless metaphorical --

a slim reprieve
from concerns anatomical?

the smell of spring should
mean allergies and whimsy;
might we be spared momentarily
these intimations of mortality
so we can focus on seasonal
frivolity? dear god i'll gladly

huff albuterol if you'll agree
to pause the fall of
everyone i've ever loved, allow
them to remain below while you,
sir, with vigilance,
keep watch above.

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