It moves through her with a grinding thickness
As though her veins were open to the sea
But she talks as normal except for the tears
And her eyes big as plates in her tiny head
Soon the disease will take her from me
Its bony hands around her neck
That despite my strength I can’t prise free
Remembering the day I first saw her
That raw punch of her beauty in the street
Like an assault on my senses
She sauntered with a briny ease
Like a mermaid trying out her new legs
Making sailors fall like fruit from trees
Yet for some alchemical reason she picked me
Least among men and most certain to fail her
Arguing art against logic as if antithetical
We were always at odds over what was practical
All those tiny disputes now senseless
In the face of this inevitability
She holds my hand without strength
I watch her chest heave as she breathes
Her wasting away so cruel
Compared to the innocence of her coming to be.
© shaun patrick green 2011
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