today in nonnie’s honor
i pay bills from bed
oil up my hands
wear my flammable bathrobe
all afternoon
one breast covered the other not
maybe i will unearth
her yellow black mold notebook
the one i put in the freezer
for 3 months
trying to make it touchable
so i could read what she wrote
about sad gratifying sex
with a nameless man
somewhere with a balcony
today in nonnie's honor
i tell the mirror
it could be worse
cut my fingernails
make rice with lots of butter
and eat it
standing up
Raw, powerful, omg this poem, thank you. There are so many nuances, so much I can relate too. In Nonnie's honor, please keep writing. So sorry for your loss.
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