on the last day, you will plot
our shared memories into a graph,
bind data sets from my tears and
calculate the standard deviation of
fear, the mean value of loss.
you will transcribe hours of
washing the chemical spillage
of my identity into a clean, double-
spaced document. a future
reference. your scribbles
the testimony; your recorder
on the last day, ask me:
how do you feel about this?
do not wait for a response.
spread the prescription pad over
my lap and write the answer.
Jocelyn Suarez is only sometimes a poet. Actually a nurse, she gathers inspiration from her experience at work, delving into the psychosocial intricacies of human relationships and expounding on issues such as death and human suffering. She has been included in a couple of SingPoWriMo anthologies and has participated in various spoken word events. She hopes to be able to write more poetry beyond the month of April and maybe even adopt a cat.