My favorite aunt is dying.. cancer, quiet and
consuming as a flame.. Five short weeks
ago she was easily doing an hour of step
aerobics, unaware of this intruder, this murderer
within. Now she is lifted from bed like a
rag doll.

She is my mom, a near twin, only smaller..
funnier, serpent sly, more heavenly childish,
sapient with sweet attractive grace and modest
pride. I am in total awe of her. We are kindred spirits,
two sillies among the dull and serious.

I feel her, see her, day by day, slipping
away like the hastening angel of heaven
foretold.

This is too big for me, to awful and too
close. I am struck helpless, nothing moves,
I sit, hardly feeling, and watch her sleep.
Death's cruel process suddenly made visible.

I silently rage at the loss of it.. my loudest
vehemence pointed to this ravenous,
lurking enemy pursuing her inwardly
like a swarm of deadly hornets accidentally
composed.

46 and still stunningly beautiful, she lies
surrounded by telephones, faxes,
intercoms, notepads, friends and care-givers.
Her life reduced to escaping the pain and
making arrangements for her soon to be
orphaned children 4 and 6.

Morphine and pain blockers are her nourishment
and seem to work better in the daylight as
lawyers garner powers of attorney, bankers
conjure trusts and estate planners build
foundations to protect small children from
a mothers loss.. as if they could replace a
single hug

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