We who lived as two apples
ripening on one branch,
so close we began to fuse,
now live on opposite coasts.
With your asthma, if infected–
[ I can’t say it ] I can’t
stand by your bedside.
I won’t press my palm
against the protective glass
between me and you.
And oh god if you die
believe me, I will die too
while still living like a dried
gourd. Shake me to hear
my empty percussion,
my little reliquary of bones.
If death comes wheezing and gasping
for me, I want to but won’t be
under the earth beside you.
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Mary Ann Honaker is the author of It Will Happen Like This (YesNo Press, 2015) and Becoming Persephone (Third Lung Press, 2019). Mary Ann holds an MFA in creative writing from Lesley University. She currently lives in Beaver, West Virginia.
Photo by the Center for Disease Control.
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