• We’re beyond the days of Band-Aids fixing anything
    when scraped knees and elbows
    were the serious matters of life.

    My palm rests on the cavity of your chest,
    feeling the strings of your body tremble,
    shaking off the hand of death.

    Inhale.

    I cannot kiss the cancer better.
    It’s destroyed your body, my heart;
    so we sit like this for hours
    waiting to die-
    just travelers at a bus stop.