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Allison Black – Finishing
My father got to leave when he was 47.
Diagnosed one week
coffined the next.
Gone. Dead. Free.
Does that age
that magic number
translate to a life expectancy
for his expectant
Of us, I am the eldest
the older sister
I will be the one
who reaches that potential finish line
And it’s true
I am the most desperate to get there
reaching for that ribbon
begging hardest and loudest and most relentlessly
for the poison, the blackness, to grow inside me
to invade and destroy me
to give me a way out
—an exit for which I cannot be blamed.
T-minus five years and counting