Triage

 

The doctor looks over my x-Ray
Saying “This looks good,
Except for the shin bone jabbing through
Your flesh.”

He can mend it, easily.
But that fragmented bone
Pushed so hard to be free,
Perhaps I should let it bleed.

I read the letter
You left on the countertop-
I only wanted to
Be an April shower,
A soft mist that reflects
Off streetlights when the stars
Are struggling to make their way through
A lumbering spring fog.
The tear drops have a gentle cadence,
Moisture has a rhythm,
That chokes me when I sing along
as I wish
It was the first day we met.

I’ll bite the heads off the dandelions
Before the frost returns
So they never have to wait,
Wondering if they will thaw.

How do I know
Who should go
Or who should stay
Just to hurt for a while.

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