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576 LISTEN HERE BAD NEWS from Weeping with Those Who Weep: Poems o/Bereavement (1998) So there I was simply filling the gas tank When you cruised in and calmly reported You are dying of cancer. So what was I supposed to do, Straining to hear your husky words, Trying not to flicker an eyelid Nor imagine the bleeding, the vomit, the pain, While the gas was spilling and filling my shoes? Well, I'll tell you tomorrow, as I told you today, We're all dying, some just a little faster than othersAnd missing moreLike singing and watching the children grow upAnd I asked about Martha and paid for the gas, Registering forever the look in your eyes, Wanting me to say just something, more, So I'll tell you tomorrow, as I told you today, We're all dying. But I won't believe it As I tear through the gears driving back up the hill And split the hell out of the firewood in the yard And scrub floors until my knuckles are red And as raw as your throat. Then I'll bake two blackberry pies, And I'll bring one warm to the shadows on your porch And offer it, still not saying the words, But you'll know, And I'll know. We're all dying. ...

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