ZENA
VIRANI
the TV is on and
i'm high on codeine
i imagine that one day
when my mouth is filling with
blood
and my breath is slowed with
sleep
(or quickened with disbelief)
that it will be your hand that
reaches out -
warm, tender,
and your soothing voice that
will placate me.
in a room with dusty windows,
draped yellow and beige
i hope that your face will be
the first that i see
and the last to depixilize when
i let my heavy lids go
and enter the warm belly of
sleep.
in the days before my last
and in the days after
will your brown bear eyes
soften?
will i hear you from a distance
like my new raven friend, who
perches
atop my neighbours roof and
caws at me
on these cloudy mornings?
and if these days arrive at
all, will i have the choice?
i'll show them our innards; our
stomachs,
our hearts, & our blood
vessels too.
i'll show them where our rings
hid,
underneath my thick layers of
flesh.