6 months

if i peek into that box
my insides will spill out

plasma, cells, tissue
it will escape from my pores
and seep into the cracks
on the hardwood floor

i strip may from the calendar
and stare at june
time is such a liar
it cannot have been 6 months

it feels like i just woke up
to knowing she was dead

the living room still smells like pine needles
from our christmas tree
my hands are still soft
from washing her pink onesies and blankets
her stuffed elephant still waits
to be cuddled and loved

i am afraid to crawl into that bottom drawer right now
even though all i want to do
is weep over her– her footprints, her lock of hair,
her tiny checkered hospital gown
but dinner needs to be made
and there’s a baseball practice to go to

so i will keep my insides
inside me today

and try not to panic
that tomorrow
she will still be dead

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