-Sheree Fitch
They (those who believed I committed suicide)
decided upon closer DNA examination
of the few skin cells left behind
that overall I was too porous.
I absorbed my own and others' tears
until I was waterlogged.
They call it spongogaglia or simply
Death by Empathy.
Now like Sex in the Pan or Death by Chocolate
it is a dessert that tastes like lemon clouds
those sour devils and sweet divinities
sifted together in an ultimate mockery.
I could care less.
Despite being gobbled up
life remains
juicy.
I savour its stickiness.
