ashes

Rumination is now digital.
Misery’s greatest gift.
“This is for your own good,” they say
as if anyone knows anything at all.
Did the tree really ever fall then?
Was it in Sept? No, December?
No way to tell doesn’t mean there’s no way to remember.
I still hold the spaces that weigh me down.
Still have the things I’ll never look at.
A hidden box labeled “esophagus”.
Hidden thoughts named “avoid”.
I want to hold on as if
something else is actually holding back.
“This is for your own good,” I say.
I hope, I think, I know.
I honestly don’t know.
Facing denial I gently hold her hand
and say “It’s time.”

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