Tell Me

By Denise Wilkinson

May 21, 2018

Tell Me

Show me the shape of your thoughts when the doctor announced my cancer. Reveal the colors and the shadows. Tell me not the lines, but the in-betweens, right to your bones. 

Lament with me the unrest of memories yet to be lived, then speak them into truth. Wrap your words around me. Tell me we will retire together. Say we will awake to Caffe Verona in Seattle. Insist we will laugh in all the oceans and drink zinfandel at Bishop’s Cellar. Promise we will be silent together. Say you want all the clichéd hopes and dreams: grey hair, grandchildren, exhausting Christmases with extra tables dragged into a home overflowing. Say it is impossible for life to be any other way. 

Tell me we have now. Tell me we have later. 

Tell me.

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