she can't write
or call
or text, or e mail.
her husband
is on her like
snoop dog, columbo,
Sherlock
holmes
all wrapped into one.
i saw a small plane
writing in
the sky
the other day,
blowing soft letters
in smoke, saying,
hey.
what are you doing,
i'm okay.
i think it was her.
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1 comment:
it wasn't me.
there is no okay in my message...
instead there's words like rare, chemotherapy, radiation, inoperable, being strong.
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