Goodbye Dear Mom,
I'm not a good son. I wanted to open with that because once the truth is stated, there's nothing left to hide. I'm not. It's alright, I know. I could have been spending more time with you, maybe just to talk or to listen. I didn't. I'm selfish. I've always been.
Some regrets we carry until the day we die. Some memories we cherish until that day as well. I remember Dad calling me on his cell. I had it because I was working for him. I was at the dump. I was emptying the flatbed of garbage with Robert. I remember the smell. It was stifling.
When Dad told me, I was numb. I was numb to the reality, numb to the stagnant air of
1000 Paper CranesI.
We whispered prayers into the corridors
while I spoke into your ribcage,
telling lies to our skeletons
to help you understand.
you said they loved
watching me wax poetic
while I dripped candlelight into your hands.
we watched the dust motes
cover our skin
while I taught you how to fly.
(you were always too afraid to fall
and too afraid to land).
It wasn't lovesongs we sang;
it was half-forgotten hymns.
we never wanted to believe
but you said ghosts exist
and without sins.
I told the doctor
his medication clipped your wings.
I fed you sweet words
tucked in between
Fuck You, CancerKay didn't want it.
No, no, no, no, no.
She screwed the shiny leaflet up into a tight ball, not caring that the sharp edges dug into her palms, and threw it into the open fireplace, smugly watching the flames eat up her information. It was permanently ingrained now anyway.
She didn't want alopecia. To have to wrap her bald head in scarves and wigs that itched. She didn't want to vomit her stomach up every time she tried to keep some form of nourishment in it. She didn't want her red blood cells to die away so all she had energy for was to lie down and sob. She didn't want her skin to be so sore and fragile her legs would bleed freel