We were talking around the subject,
but this way or that, there were words.
They stood like pillars, monuments of ink.
The sky turned. Pale blue to a strange scarlet.
I wanted to say.
That’s the value of a breath. I imagined you
with a defibrillator. I imagined you. Even the last
days hold poetry.
Especially them, who are we kidding.
Loss is what loss does. I have been carved. I thought
I could become blood for you. Some flesh. Some framework
with Headings and subheadings and context and code. Sometimes
it’s the palm.
STABILISE 
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