No Remission
Some days I forgive you for dying
so slowly; others I become a malignant
mass eagerly eating every moment
that looks like a cure. I am less myself
without you, bits and pieces of a single
cancerous cell that can sometimes
be tricked into remission.
Grief is a tumor twice tainted:
once in the losing that crowds out
breath and other basic needs; and again
in the living after loss, in that place
where grief becomes guilt, where mourning
metastasizes and I find that I'm mourning me.
