tattoo this on my heart

end days in these quarantine times,

staring at floorboards

uneven.

while mother lies dying,

intractably morose, i

count the times i've been here before–

friends whose lives burdened them so much

they decided to cut things short. three times,

too many,

too many

to forget.

i'll grieve for them as though it wasn't expected.

the fractal pattern of loves long-lost

is the defining characteristic of my landscape.

coastal erosion/

crystal formation/

galaxy birth/

have nothing on the incisions that death creates.