I’ll Fly Away

I’ll Fly Away

These mornings had more promise
Than the ones she slept through
Last year.

Today an old hymn
In her head.

“I’ll fly away in the morning
When I die”

Yes, transport herself
Through the rubble
Of another chemo treatment
Still refusing to be confused
By road maps and Triple A bus tours,
Holding a steady wheel
And a firm accelerator
On the Queen E,
Always ready for a stop
At a Tim Horton’s.

Solid grey hair and blue eyes,
Her Descartes’ luggage abandoned
For a new find
In robins and seagulls
Escorting all the power-point words
From her college notes
Through the camp of her wrinkled arms,
Her torso coming alive
Two years ago on a gurney
And a doctor’s promise
Of a few more years
Of burnished sunsets
Driving an extra pulse of a new memory
Through her thin wrists.


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