“How long do any of us really have before the body begins to break down and empty its mysteries into the air? Oh honey, I said—for once without a trace of irony or blush of shame— the touch of my own hand on my chest like that of a stranger, oddly comforting in spite of the facts.” SelfPoetrySelf LovePoemComfortAgingMortalitySelf AcceptanceSelf Soothing Author:James Crews