Dear Dear Poem by Francie Lynch

Dear Dear:

I heard you're not well, and I'm sorry as hell. Nobody, not me, not anyone we know, could see it coming. Was it metastasized kindness with a primary worry; some say eroded patience and promises, a tightening of throat, are systemic symptoms of a body of hope. I can send you the quote:

Drs. say excessive and extensive heart
failure is brought on by an over-exposure
to caring, and hence, is co-existent with
the rapacious spread of the disease.
Fortunately we've isolated the hosts.

I was sorry as hell to hear you're not well, and I asked,
Why you, not another?
But your immune to such an infectious question.
And Dear, I'm sad to say, there's no remedy. You're stricken with being a mother.