I yelled from the
back room and ran
to find her standing
with a sandwich
In her hand,
there are flowers

Her body lays calm
At least she’s not purple
not gasping
not shaking
She’s still
in the kitchen

holding her sandwich
as I ask for a popsicle
broken in half

my heart

It’s broken in half
as I stroke her face
now cold

“My hands are cold,”
I say to her as she’s
laying there

“Grab a paper towel,”
she says back

I run to the back room
as my hands warm
and I look back
because I can still see her
smiling face.

I can still see her
peaceful face
when I look in the
mirror to wipe
the tears
from mine.