To never be touched again. That line

has a sound. Hear it?

I don’t want to bring a story

to it. Not even an image.

It has a sound. Listen.

To never be touched. Oh, a nurse,

a doctor, but never to be touched in that way.

You know what way. Listen.

Hear it. Let’s not tag it with a feeling.

Give me a break. What possible song

would you play when you toss my ashes,

someone once asked me.

There is no song, he said. Don’t

narrativize, Diane. Don’t narrativize Diane.

See what a comma can do?

 

Copyright © 2022 by Diane Seuss. This poem originally appeared in The New Republic, May 19, 2022. Used with the permission of the author.