this is how it is:
sometimes my heart beats a sideways tattoo
and death feels closer than the window
the moon shining through, penny-bright
like this:
the pressure and the tingling
breathing swallowed and shallowed
the headcanon of my life rewriting itself
she died relatively young, but then
she was never the most robust
we might all be made of stars, but if that's so
it is a difficult and distant aging dwarf swimming in my blood
a stranger to earth and strong lovely things
this is how it is.
no long years at my feet, or so it feels
the journey into the west before me,
the path lost in the night.
I have a heart and my heart is broken
and that is the only true thing
it is broken and it may never be healed
no one lives on beyond their heart's strength
and all my words
all my pale, idiotic grasping
all my loving and all the love I am given
cannot fix what is broken
cannot repair that rift or reset that clock
and I close my eyes and dream of impossible things
and ask the angel to open my eyes again
for another day.
- Kathy, 3/07/17
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