she negotiated her mortality
prematurely

suddenly, but not unexpectedly

the many days over 30 years
she imagined or wished herself gone
she wears like a scarlet letter,
better a moss green letter, a french blue one

A for Agony
A for Asshole
A for “A”, school girl, good girl
A for Antigone
A for Anam

the tears, wasted and years, squandered
tethering her to expectations of men and mothers
to shame and insignificance
to dumb successes and false failures

golden hour, her lifeline,
the most unsquandered,
unwasted moments of her life
tethering her to Sun
to cosmic night and birdsong
to photosynthesis and frogsong
she noticed and named the dendronglow

now, the thought of
never seeing this year’s seven-year-old pawpaws bear fruit
is more unbearable than the next devastating hour

she planted the seed.

she planted the trees.

A is for Alchemy

she will metamorphose and live.