2 May 2012
When colon cancer came They talked it over. Stoic and humoured. He drew on her bald head. She lined him up With future dates. They planned and prepared. She chose to live But died anyway.
They loved her So they mourned her. With grief-shrunk gazes They made her martyr Of the foul disease.
She lay, side along With other martyrs, Millions of them. An accident of Disgusting cells Made glorious in death. We love them all.
Finally, she brought them Down to Earth. Loving them And knowing them Almost too closely She predicted Their pedestal.
And wrote In testament As they wailed and sobbed: Laugh with me - We are the universe's half-remembered joke - So why not make it a good one?
I did not croak in battle Or saving babies. A pipe with shit in Got me.
Now live.
Colonaculum • Opuss № I