Funerals are for the living

On Ricki’s last night, I asked

God in the form of a Google search 

“how does throat cancer kill you?” 

Did you know, about 1,119,000 results show 

that throat cancer doesn’t kill— 

it begins with ordinary symptoms:

stooped shoulders, dahlia lips

dry winter air that suddenly tastes

like the blood of dragons.

Squamous cells live in her wilting breath—

it doesn’t hurt; Ricki whispers, 

just a dull ache. 

To a group of dying women

in the heart of St. James Cathedral

funerals are for the living. They sit 

with damp eyebrows facing 

my godmother Ricki, her flat face. 

Ricki had stage-4 throat cancer. We all knew

when it came back the second time

it wouldn’t come back a third—

leaking down her tonsils

through her spongey lungs 

taking refuge in her liver 

and staying.

Eulogy ends.

I eat my godmother’s ashes 

to feel a part of her 

grow inside me like wild 

ivy, poison left sitting         out 

in April rain.

I drink wine sometimes

Blackout poetry inspired by Jenny Xie’s ‘Letters to Du Fu’  

Charlotte Nip is a SFU Master of Publishing graduate and lifestyle marketing assistant at Penguin Random House Canada. She is a diligent social media enthusiast, writer, and poet, who has frequently published on ThoughtCatalog, Spoon University, and Ricepaper Magazine. When she is not working, she likes taking the perfect Instagram shot and going through Vancouver to find it. Follow her on Instagram for her daily adventures (@charlottenip).