Bad Grannie 
I fling my arms about myself
tight around my body
afraid to loosen my hold

fearful I'll fall in half

flayed
bisected

I fear the bones of me
will lift away

the flesh of me will fall away

and the pain of me remain

so I cross my arms to hold
the whole of me together

Published by Bad Grannie

Death. Dying. Grief. Loss. Existential rabbit holes. Vast experience with all five. And dogs. There will always be dogs.

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