Dying in Me

by Shawn Phillips



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Just when the diagnosis was
Pain is deaf,
in the wake of the long climb,
paraplegic, Pain became a living miracle.
Walking, talking, cartwheels galore.
In its hand, a fleshy piece of muscle,
still throbbing, still beating.
A hunk of heart that was
thought to have been left behind
in that long climb.
Never sure if it was up or down,
exalting or spiraling.
That pulpy piece of me that has
been occupied by you,
cancerous, both of us dying in me.

What is hope now?
To have that tumor,
that vital part of me,
sustain existence for
just a little longer,
to let me be whole
just for a little while,
to give me a taste,
the complete memory
to relish after you are
taken from me.


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