Poetry

the way we work

after I found out you had cancer again
and before they took your second breast
I cried because the world is unfair
and I remember that you came to our house
and my mom made you laugh
about something small.

“what if you used this cat tail for a wig
when your hair falls out?” my mom asked
as she picked up our small,
orange cat from the floor
holding the tail like a soft hat.

your laughter exploded
through the room
and the silence was broken,
letting the old tears dry on your
old face.

all this and the smell of dinner
cooked by my mother
makes my heart swollen with the fact
that even with death near our table
we will still find cats
and laughter for healing.

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