We Must Suffer

a hundred brittle winters have passed
Since love broke that
yearning spine

and frigid fingers
Found fleshy places
to press               

     Fresh

like
harmless
lemons
      Smashed
by metal teeth

And yet somehow
this
   trickle
      of
         sweet Surprise
was
        Summoned

Daring and bold
she
     gathered herself

Amidst the
Reckless
sour
thrashing,

Grace making space
for her to
be another's
someday
salve

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." II Corinthians 1:3,4

Cancerous Memories

Cancerous memories

and the therapy makes you sick

but you still slip between its sheets

if forgetfulness has promised to befriend you

when you have given every

         aching

ounce

        of you

and your blood flows

        only

when they speak

and your oxygen

         is the heat

of their fingers’ breath

on the

glass

          of your skin

and when the

sleep that you dream

comes awake

in their eyes

sabotage is the only escape

when he takes the fragile fetus

of you

and tears it from its home inside his ribs

when he burns

the cord that ties

sharp scissor snap

and charcoal burns

and casts

it into worlds unknown

the pain can only come with a drowning of the

thing that holds the memory

I had to carve through

nerve and sinews

force frail hands to

pry apart the

cartilage and bone

that had attached

me to you

and then somehow

regenerate
the
leftover scraps
that
had been made
of my heart