And I want to hope it won’t be blood
As my body rumples with softness and tearing, clenched and tense
After finishing the last course of antibiotics from our last try, lost
Aren’t you tired of trying, weary of counting syllables and diminutive sounds, the charting, the appointments
Articulated prescriptions. Unscrutinized fatigue blanches the balance. When will your body be well?
Absolutely. I don’t know, but I want to hope.
