If I were to write a thousand poems
about being your sister
I'd still be at a loss
If I write about grief
for the rest of my life
maybe I'll find my way
back to you
This is a delicate belief
I hold
inside the arch of my hands
This is a prayer
I secretly harbor
Where you live
inside a perfect bead
Microscopic
like the ones they fedexed
halfway around the world to us
well, to you
in Spokane
Thousands of magic radioactive beads
funnelled into your liver
Killer beads on a mission
to destroy the tumors
Remember when we discovered them
How we fell in love with those beads
promising
us
time
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