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March 15, 2011


matthew ivan cherry

You regal queen sit
at the side of your bed
awaiting the night and your hood.
Life drained you and you now rest
holding your life source
water that feeds you
through a tube
taking away your Hummingbird pride
with a purge and leaving you 
"drone"d and bereft.

Sun-drenched and weather beaten
you reside
a faint memory,
your physicality
now diminished
by time and
honey-thickened sensibilities,
dense and dried
curled up at the edges

like my very nerves
drawn back and
calloused by chemo,
tacky – thick
chemically acrid.

Unable to conceive
barren, withdrawn
and unwilling 
to pray for rain
 to lick the sweet wet
to validate a vapor
and like a
mirage burning obsolete
come mid- afternoon
you wander away
with a wheeeze
and a buzzz
and a ghaaasssp.

 I can no longer hear your sighhhs
over my own...

but I can still hear you hummm.

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