By K.S. Moore,
The cancer has spread
I want to cocoon myself with the living,
hide from decayed wings,
talk to people I don’t know,
reassure myself we are human.
This slow death will not
slowly take everyone I love.
There are people whose bodies
do not turn against them.
Let me transform with them,
skins binding within a skin,
holding our pieces together
with silk, until our voices break
on the next breath, air easing
the struggle, delivering us.