After the diagnosis

I watch

her chest rise

and fall,

-

beautiful

-

the pink of

her delicate skin

in the hot sun.

-

We came so far

to be here,

a whole

lifetime,

unraveled

-

unto this sand

here, these waves

now

the tide

in her breath.

-

The mountains

didn't

judge us, nor

the autumn

explosion

-

of fire toasted

dead leaves

and tears,

and winding,

dizzying roads

from which

we came.

-

We were

scared then,

when reality

didn't

fit right

-

and great

uncertainty

lurked

in the strangest

of places

-

like phantoms,

the

darkness...

-

so uneasy.

-

Her breath

sounds like

heaven to me,

-

beautiful

-

my blue-haired,

bipolar

baby.

-

-

-

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