Like a pie sliced with shaky hands 
my life rests in a pan
cut into seven uneven pieces

At an age when a self can stand
outside the body’s being,
one holds and releases

millions of tiny things…loss
is the change in our pockets
we refuse to spend

When Dr. Hue joins me 
on the bench at Alligator Lake
he slips a note into my book

Late into the early morning 
there’s an opening of heart
for me to read:

no no one pulling 
the strings

everyone wishing
there was