BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD

There are times
when I'm really "good at"
talking about
planning for
your death
with myself
with others
with you
cuz at this point
these convos are
essential
plus
I been wrapping my brain
and my spirit
around this maddening reality
for almost six months

so

there are times when
I'm not in jeopardy
of bursting into tears
I can hang tough
talk about your impending
"goneness"
with relative ease
feeling like
I really got this
like I'm pretty much ready
for the moment this ride
halts
and I gotta
make the calls
break the news
handle all your biz
empty your house
and go start my life
from ground zero
without you
figure out
who the fuck I am
without a mama
to call
send cards to
text eyeballs
email all my writing projects
fresh off the keyboard
to sleep eight stairs away from
in the guest room
when I come home to visit
to harass about
the junk food
with all the chemicals
preservatives
and redblueyellow dyes
you got invading your fridge
to say good night to

yeah

I be feelin' real ready

until morning comes
and The Intruder
causes a commotion
one I've never seen
one I gotta move you through
alone
cuz when my help was here
his punk ass was asleep
or on lunch
or doin' some other bullshit
that had me thinkin'
things might be mellow
for a minute

but nah cuz
here we are
me, you, and "it,"
and just when I think
I got shit under control
I can move us through
the storm
without incident...
you plead in agony
in fear
in tears
for me to help you—
you whisper my name
ask me to help you—
like I'm not right there
already helping you
cuz The Intruder
has you by the wits
feeling helpless
even though I gotchoo 

YOU WHISPER MY NAME
ASK ME TO HELP YOU

and when I get you to the bed
you collapse
in exhaustion
I tuck you in
wipe the panic
off my face
so you don't see me
about to crack
and then I realize

I am nowhere near
ready