Poem: Maple Hearts (For mom)

The thing about you is,
if you get nicked,
the wound spills saccharine,
sweetly.

And while the rest of us might only see
the small droplets of loss
of life,

you see an opportunity
for rebirth; to remake
the chemical
structure and try again.

Because recomposition is
as natural as
the sun, the moon, the stars,
and we will all know it Someday.

You say,
why wait?

Why delay the matrimony
between body and soul?
Give in to the heavenly goading
to try again.
And again.
And however many times you need.

So we simmer the spillage. Boil it
down
into candied hearts, that we carry
around,
and pop into our mouths to savor, for
a pick-me-up,
when we nick ourselves.
Again and again.