CTx

a
straight
poison
meant to kill
more of her good cells
than such healthy ones as linger
surrounded by their friends, listening to the slow dripping,
as this vestige of medieval
medicine works its
way through her
spirit
and
veins

{ the last wave }

wind
moves
your hair
so softly
taking it all in
the vast expanse of the ocean
the reaching of clouds
all gathered
within
your
glance
and turn
spray kicking
with your pirouette
the ballet of the waves and you
receding again
gathering
for one
more
time
to make
a moment
within this frail life
of grace and pure carelessness
that i can retain
long after
the last
wave
goes