KENDRA TANACEA

Irritation, Pearl

This love is going to be my last.
I feel it in my bones. When my femur

gave out, you were there, getting me into the car,
under an x-ray. What can I say?

Even as the bones give way, there are artificial joints:
tuning forks planted in marrow. Each new breakdown,

just a reminder of what’s important.
Human touch.

The orthopedist who rotates my leg, the radiologist
who says, just happened, right? Knowing, as we all do,

the inevitability of it all. And yet, there’s always
more: heat or spores, and, if placed in water,

a carrot top will still sprout. You with your heart
murmur, pre-cancerous growths.

Last night, I was able to walk from kitchen
to bedroom. But in the morning, I collapsed.

When all those dandelion seeds blow away,
you still have a wish.

Kendra Tanacea holds a BA in English from Wellesley College and an MFA from Bennington College. A Filament Burns in Blue Degrees, published by Lost Horse Press, was a finalist for the Idaho Prize for Poetry. Her second book, The Alchemy of Us, was a semifinalist for the Washington Prize. Kendra’s poems have appeared in Rattle, North American Review and Poet Lore, among others. (kendratanacea.com)