i never told you this,
but what i first loved
about you when we
were just two little
girls at anna head
was your skin -- it
looked so soft and
clean, and like your
smile, always made
me feel so happy
inside, so complete.
you wouldn't want
to touch the skin on
my arms now.
each day i count
the spots and smell
the sores and
pretend you are
my sacred rosary.
hail, naomi, full
of grace,
blessed art
thou amongst
women.
i'm so glad i
had the courage
to run from you
and hide, to
protect you from
the sight of this
-- this rotting
flesh, a body
trying to kill
itself. it's so
unnatural. and
here i am, with
mary elizabeth
and david, my
doctor, watching
like frantic
spectators
without a home
team to root for.
don't forget me.
please. but
put my memory
carefully away
in a drawer and
go on with your
life. marry robby,
and have a
lovely, beautiful
child, a girl like
shi-hwa --
maybe you could
even name her
'pascal'--
after a famous
mathematician
from france.
