No matter how many walks I go on
It follows, tumbling, leashed by a yo-yo string.
No matter how many times its emotions erode
I can always slap on another smile with magic marker.
No matter how tight the embrace
It will not feel any pain.
No matter how many times it is lost
I can always find a suitable replacement.
That which cannot live
And leave me
Baptized in the stale air of a hospital room
Clasping her glacial hand
Wiping the snot off her arm
That had streamed down my chin
And her body shakes violently for a moment
A tempest within
And I scream, “She’s alive!”
And the doctor holds me and says, “She’s dead.
Sometimes they move afterward.”
And I say, “Oh.”