Delores can’t eat grapes

through a respirator but

she can suck teeth and

she can suck at whispering

if Jack eats one too many

and we can play over/under

with her obituary not because

of the grapes but with an eye

on her son on you for the

go-ahead by omission

For me it wasn’t the grapes

then it’s the grapes now

because now it’s me

counting days in pills

counting in handfuls

counting purple stretch marks

like fissures in tundra

like blood in the bath

For you it was when

you had the life insurance

and two years before it kicked in

you told me over drinks

you wanted to

you didn’t

and I won’t

and that leaves me

prostrate over the sausage

on the kitchen floor.