it's winter time now.
your grandmother's quilt
is gone now -
it has been for some time.
you got rid of it, remember?
after the second -
no, third? or was it even the first -
time you tried to -
well. you know.
after i held your body together with my own,
waiting for a miracle or at the least the damn ambulance -
remember how they drove past your driveway twice?
i wanted to run out and flag them down
but could not move
fearful that in my absence,
you would leave.
- as dawn broke through the blinds,
painting lines of light across your
red red red red red red
arms.