when you get up to poop for the third time, i boil the water 
and float two stars of anise like little turds of prayer. 

this morning’s sex is rubbing your belly
while you describe to me the consistency of your shit 

solid, liquid, gas, broken and green, i listen
to your science, prescribe ginger, pot liquor,

rice, apples, prayer, burnt toast, i run the list down… 
fuss at you about hydration because i love you

who waters the plants, i’m here to worry
about your soil and wash our soiled drawers. 

it’s mutual. i’ve spread my cheeks often
and you love me so you confirm my hemorrhoids

remembering Tuesday’s hour in the kitchen
the lack of lube and the pain becoming glory

becoming pain again, a little irritation is just proof 
i want you around. i want you around no matter the smell. 

twice now, i’ve wiped the people who probably wiped me
who had bodies and bodies so hard to keep, 

my papa, my grandma, my man, my mother, my everyone 
who needs it –love eventually requires lifting

the leg, washing the sheets, getting into
each crevasse and around the little hole.

what a thing to become your love’s,
your parents’, your elder so suddenly

made from fine china, so wind-weak
and radiant with years – what a thing

to become their brief nurse, 
their final mother? i know

the umbilical cord is two-way street
and there are things far thicker than blood

like a vow, like gold, like shit. & i feel the crown 
of love has been placed, thank God,

on my head, too, and so i bend
towards the smell and make them feel

no shame. love is shit. love is shit
and blood and tears and milk

and soup and cash and gas and time
and time and time and calls and books

and dancing and songs and walks and chemo 
and couches and stars and medicine

and hurt and silence and so much crying
and stillness, please, stillness, and running

and the runs and Imodium AD and senna and sana
sana colita de rana and breaking what’s blocked 

and too much sleep and sleep not good 
and even the dreams ache

and all the wipes and all those creams
and all that dirt and the dirty work 

and our hands, if we’re lucky, will need good washing
our prayers smelling like dookie and soap. 

i love you, i will love you, i will love you 
when you need embarrassing help. i love you, 

will you love me? please help me 
when my body turns me loose.