A Kind of Marriage

He’s in limbo now, that
no man’s land between
sickness and health.
And though we are not
married we live as if we were

wed on the state’s dotted line,
hearts’ signatures entwined
like calligraphy. It means
I travel this expanse at his

side, looking for landmarks
on a far horizon we can’t yet
see but trust to be there
when we arrive. For better
or worse, we’ve thrown 

in our lot and seek to thrive.
We are two, sharing

this one insufficient life.



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