Lupus
By Julie Bond
If you had lived, would you now lollop up
a hill and howl at stars that bore your name,
or snarl when lapping at your coffee cup
so no one could mistake you for the tame
lapdogs who yap and piddle in a shoe?
Or would you be sedated so the pain
of bubbling joints could not come stalking through
and grin so shaggily inside your brain?
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