Self-portrait (2/11/2023).

I’ve been trying to be immortal.

Now I can’t pee right,
and my foot is swollen.





Friends have died recently. Others are facing it first hand. My younger siblings have already experienced the death of a spouse or a stroke or life-threatening cancer.

I, meanwhile, have sat with friends dying of AIDS. Held my mother’s hand at her last breath. Hugged my father days before he died in his sleep.

Feared the eventual death of my husband.

Fooled myself that the Crow tat on my left forearm meant I was ready.

Now I can’t pee right and face surgery.

Such silly pride. We all go.

I’m not as ready to live with this as I thought.

Image: “Self-portrait, 2/11/2023.”

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