Jessica Pierce: “Without”

I can say it now without shaking.
Without crying. Without falling down.
It still grabs my throat sometimes, but 
it will release its white-knuckle grip 
if I whisper tenderly, you are true. 
It does not need me to lie 
and say it is beautiful or that through 
force of habit it has become exalted. 
And when I can’t speak, it has given
me permission to carry it between 
my breasts, against the grief that has become 
cellular. Almost just something
else to carry through this fraught world.