Spared
Flat on my back
I taste your breath
and track
your blades
hover for hours
I will not sleep
despite good weed.
The doctor warned my
nips might tingle, so
I pull the duvet
tight and swaddle
myself, like you did
when you were alive,
to our baby girl.
Under the covers
I use my finger,
hips
lips
clit
nips
pink and hard,
still mine.
Stacey Z Lawrence teaches Poetry and Creative Writing in a public high school in Northern, NJ. She is working on her first book of confessional poems, which explores the untimely death of her husband shortly followed by her bout with Breast Cancer.