i carried her up the stairs

late in

the night as we lay

in bed

after making love,

she told

me that she had a bad

heart.

i wondered

if she was kidding

and talking

about all the broken

hearts she

had, but no.

she said something instead

about the chambers,

the arteries,

the weak

and leaking ventricles.

she said

it was a strain to walk

at times,

to go up and down

stairs.

she told me that

she only had a few months

at most left to live.

i'm not sure if she was

lying

about this,

but for months afterwards

i carried up

every fight of stairs

and down

at times.

the next spring 

after we had borken up

i saw

her running

in a marathon

and i had to laugh.