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Christmas Candle (Done with You)By Brook Bhagat QuailBellMagazine.com *Editor's Note: Previously published at Nowhere Poetry and Flash Fiction  A Christmas candle caught my hair, Rode a light-speed flash Almost all the way. In the bathroom, As I washed out the black Saw the remains in the sink Smelled how my cells Had been transformed into air I remembered that I can go anytime. I never said when I was pregnant that
“We are pregnant”—it sounds stupid But when the diagnosis came He made it we from the beginning Not with words But with his way, Doing all the research I Couldn’t bear to do, Not blinking an eye When I spent $100 On one pair of shoes. We started doing it in the afternoon Instead of night And I stopped sleeping In the other room. Sooner or later Cancer or theater My old eyes will close My old mouth sag open, a door Left open No more cat to worry about she is out No more time with her kitten her mouse Her spouse Let the movies be true Let there be a secret handshake between the nebula of me And the nebula of you Even outside time, between birth and death There will be one pen left In a kitchen drawer or your Back pocket don’t forget it Scrawl an address on my hand because I am not done with you CommentsComments are closed.
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