Diligently, we hope
Chemo, radiation, immunotherapy, ablation, etc.
Yet always, the exhaustion returns.
Impatient to find the place and formula
We wait for revelations
Instead, the repose of IV lines.
Received again: Hospitals, hygienic diversions,
Hell is all pillows
This time, hospice; by now you are half-bald.

I did not ask for the elegiac lamentOf amorous longings or immutable learningsFor who am I to know the contours and claws tearing the comforter,Dizzy

Foam-lipped bivalves weave byssus threads        Like calloused hands oysters deposit                Decked in velvet coolness,                    Tongue curls back to robe the mouth             Squeezing from shrouded sands                Sickle bending, enameled eddying                    Nocturnal