Forever a Sapling/Etoposide for Beginners

col·lab·o·rate  (k-lb-rt) intr.v. col·lab·o·rat·ed, col·lab·o·rat·ing, col·lab·o·rates 1. To work together, especially in a joint intellectual effort. 2. To cooperate treasonably, as with an enemy occupation force in one's country.

Greetings, Garden Dwellers!

Marian and Izy are here to usher in mid-January with our collaborative effort for Toads In Tandem. We were especially determined to find a theme which would allow us some room to play and to contort the written word to our liking. 

Now, it could be suggested that it is dangerous to pair the two of us together... What countries would fall to our scheming? How many treasonable lunchtime rough drafts would be fired off to each other? What sort of infectious rebellion would run through our fingers, onto our keyboards and the dangerous battlefield of Google Docs? *bwah hah hah*

Wait no further, dearest Toads. It is without further grandstanding or hyperbole that we deliver our words to you.


Forever a Sapling/Etoposide for Beginners

Don’t bother pondering
what’s gonna happen
because it’s no secret:
I am coming for you,
and you can’t do a damn thing
to stop me.

Place those flowers in the trash can

and come closer, my sparrow.

For weeks, I have watched

mornings dissolve into afternoons

and no shadow as lovely as yours

has ever been cast across these walls.

Forget your lover, your children,
your poems yet to be written.
Forget the cherry tree you cultivated,
forever a sapling to you now.

Forget that my wrists

smell of iodine and bandages.

Forget that my toenails

have crusted orange from radiation.

Don’t bother giving up
your thrice-daily PBR
or try swapping bacon for tofu.
Don’t scribble in your journal
or make a fine documentary
lauded at Cannes
with 15 million YouTube hits--
The world might love you
but it don’t matter, you don’t matter.

Crawl into my sick bed, darling.

Rub your scruffy chin

across my fevered cheeks

and tickle my sallow knees

until they freckle.

Let’s give these blankets

something other than

deathwish sweat stains

to shake loose in the wash.

No race nor regimen’s
gonna help you at all--
You don’t even qualify
for a protracted goodbye.
I am coming for you
and you can’t do a damn thing
to stop me.

And then, we’ll lay still,

healthy limbs entwined

with my own.  

Knowing full well

there are worse ways

to waste away in bed. 

Photo copyright Isadora Gruye Photography