We were promised by youth
To revel in comfort, in family and in resource
It was the tributary of our heritage,
form and function
Father was a pillar for the overjoyed
But Father Time came for us
Mother had weaned us from disaffection
But Mother Nature still holds its bearings
And this rancorous uterus
Slowly consumed the skin and memory
It elicits, But not without consequence
I have rekindled in form,
But the seed of ‘89 would be my last.
Like the dofleini,
That womb that housed you
Eats at me in lurid shame
This body you know,
Has been constructed by its own destruction.
It is flesh for moths.
And our youth,
So promising with evidence,
Now too, flesh for moths.
Sarcoma allows me one last smile.
While form and function contort
to a minor crowd.
As fraction within fractions
Of ravaged muscle and tissue give in,
The reticent RED narrates
With hardly and resistance
These untreatable layers of skin and yearning
Grow heavier towards the end
Form consumes function,
One last look at you my love.......