lucy

i.
they call it aphasia when
your words escape you, 
but through it all
your humor remains. 
you are not frail but
light as a feather and 
i will the wind
to let you stay. 

ii. 
though the slope of your sharp mouth
softens to the side
your smile remains steady. 
i bet it tastes of salt, 
or sugar, 
whichever you will have. 

iii. 
you are bone marrow and flesh, 
sinew and kidneys, 
the sum of the whole and
still all its parts. 
oh,
how you devastate me, 
how you make me totality. 

iv. 
if you stare at a spot long enough, 
it begins to move. i was staring at the ceiling
when they called to tell me you had died. 
suddenly stipple became constellations 
and i saw you dancing among the stars. 
i pray you've found peace.