Identical

Sometimes I imagine cutting her
from my bones on an icy day and casting her
out with Pugh swimming around those melting giants.
Sometimes I let her sing
the whale songs of her youth, vibrating in barrels of melancholy and mildew.
Sometimes I envision her as a crow stuck my throat,
clawing to get out where she'd fly to that old pine wood and caw for that old life she lived.
Sometimes I feel like I'm the imposter, a wellness parasite overtaken her body and voice to ensure survival
at all costs.
She was a hazardous, magnificent thing.
I don't think I'm less magnificent, just different,
just palatable,
just alive -
she's stopped wriggling inside my bones
for now.