She made dying look easy.
With a hundred hail marys
choking her throat
a thousand ways to say goodbye
etched into her eye-
lids until her blood
ran more iced milk
than mammalian warm--
every time she spoke
epitaphs
every time she sang
mourning doves
sat upon her tongue
& each blink scratched
meaning into tears
& each sigh was merely
a release of duty.


How so?
!!!










27 old applause
