Mesothelioma
by James Reich
Low lung skimming rib and valve
Corpses shaken from their ground
Crashed on his face and drew froth
Over starfish shoulders back and ruin raved
His lips sponge on salve and sweet spittle
We ate mezze and he loved orange like a baby
And everywhere we went he was dying
One pulsar of asbestos blinking in him
Glares through bone and coat
Nothing to do save glare back
And know we cannot win
Nor cry out the mote.