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A thing is at its most beautiful When it is already dying, The aura is brightest In the knowledge of death's shadow. Hands caress the dance Because it is not forever. A mother's birthing cries Portend the pain of endings. Only love can bear the burden Of a petal's mortality. 
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Some hearts won’t stop beating, Even a massive dose Can’t take the Marilyn Monroe out of them. Thoughts flicker, Candles in the wind, What was it about her that remains inextinguishable? Two pink bandages Wrapped around her forelegs, cover the holes they made, Blood trickles from my forearms. “Live! Live! Live!” She barks at me from the floor, Hind legs splayed, heart stilled. For a beloved creature I once knew whose keen intellect was always guided by her heart.  |
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September 2023
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