At 42 I woke with one breast

              in a single        suitcase


              in the cemetery of bell towers

We were lucky


              in a ghost fog
I miss you since I’ve lived


bone    atoll     lonely


I told Ellen it will kill me this time

I said, Take the cats,    too


I’m worried. You’re a size two!

She tastes chemicals in the ice chips


              Mary, Mary quite contrary


skating in a laundry basket


even the camellias froze


as a peach julep


how does your garden            
                                         grow?

I mean, I’m a size two but I have cancer


              left lung not moving

You could slice over a glass

your Grandmother’s tomatoes

                 a rosary


The snow’s still here

we got to know                         each other


in ’79 the Chesapeake froze from shore to

                             marrow

Bring me the phone and the CAT scan

results


I have 8 hours to gather my belongings



Here’s you in polka dots—


                 there is so no such thing


Was that you throwing up?


Nurse expressed doubt she’d last 90 days

                 ate some flan today, more animated



                 Quick Mom, 90 days



                             in the sea,        in the bay

let’s go out and—