Author: Amelia Macapia

Poetry & Prose


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.

Poetry & Prose


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

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