Tumor


 John Kay

 

We visited the life you fled

for a bed on a Houston cancer

 

ward. Utter strangers, we slept

in your sheets, used your pillows,

 

drank coffee from your cups,

examined your college photos,

 

your choices of art, the books

on heaven. In a week, we were

 

floating in your skin, carrying

your keys. In the beginning,

 

we tried to leave everything as

it was—then it didn't matter.