see: 11:24am, a cloudy march morning, 2014

my grandmother called today,
she told me B was in the hospital,
despite her being admitted two days ago.

i can hardly speak, mouth soured & rotten with disbelief
& guilt that forces fingernails into palms,
can barely speak, wondering about the isolating rooms
& distinct odor of purity from the whitewash walls; hospital.

heart pounding, i hang up & wonder how things got this bad,
escalated to the point where we revolved around different suns.

busy, i need to stay busy before the questions overload & i
end up a puddle on the floor; why couldn't we go back to
being kids when things were so much easier & death was
never on the menu.

the sliced apples & cinnamon are no longer appetizing,
i can't get them to my mouth with such shaky hands,
the bitter coffee is better, grounding & burning the guilt
away as it tries to crawl up my throat.

black tinted water scalding as i sit in a heap wondering
how she is doing, why didn't she ever say anything?
& the regrets pile up into a hand full of cards,
but i just want to fold.