The Lifespan of a Wren

The Lifespan of a Wren


Seven years, give or take,

in her best medical opinion,

after the diagnosis—the nurse’s name was Nell.

She explained what the doctor would not–

could not–the timeline.


So I called it my death knell,

after her, which made my husband cry.

He does that.                                     Soon, I stopped…

I just stopped.                                   And started again,


saying, “Guess what, bitches?

Seven good years

is better than any number of bad ones.”

I lived a lifetime when he smiled, coughed,

called for me, broke a glass

or plate, his unapologetic face

the most beautiful thing

I’ve seen.                           Please, God,

just a second more?




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