sqamous cell

that's what they told gramma
when the lump started on the side
of her chin. it looked harmless
didn't hurt or anything but when
they removed it and did the biopsy
there it was, death in her mouth.


i'm so scared of docs those hopesellers
with their chemo and radiations their poisons
to keep you alive just one more month
or hey can you believe in remission?

this lump beside my eye has appeared
over the spring. i thought sinus, i thought
maybe it would go away but it grows.
i wouldn't have noticed it at all except
i've begun wearing eye shadow and it doesn't
blend very well. silly to think you

might be able to offer me comfort.
we all die alone don't we?





oh sure sometimes i think i court it
but i was told to whistle past the grave
then death would think i'm not scared
and leave me alone. at least for the next
four years until my baby gets thru school.

i should have died at 39 like my mom. i was
anticipating it, i was sure cancer would
come for me like it did my mom, both grammas,
my gramps. but it didn't so i began to live
at last. now it's ten years later and it stalks me.
laughing at it now, cuz what can i do except
open my arms and embrace the whistling bomb
targeted at me. i know it's too funny

to believe i'm having these thoughts before
a diagnosis. but when i'm shoved into the miasmic
stew of tests and specialists i prolly won't
have time to hope. i'll be on that grey path
where my golden aura turns dull. i walk it
alone, permanently. we all die that way, even
if we're surrounded by loved ones. they make
us weep and make us angry and bitter because
they will live and we will die. but as i keep

telling my daughter, the prognosis of life is death.
make the journey count. so then i have to look
at my own, see if it does. for me. i've learned
a lot, tho i have so much
more to grok. i hope i can learn past anger and bitter
so that my soul tastes sweet when
it's on the tongue of the gods. tho why i should
care about those immortal sadistic bitches i dunno.


i've learned that clothes spill out of drawers
despite my training. that litter boxes are the reason
cats needs to be outside, that living is love
or hate but at any rate it demands passion. otherwise
welcome to your zombie. i'm tired again
and i hope i can sleep, cuddle up with feathers
and foam and have dreams i won't remember
which is good since i feel like the time to live them
is passing, passing. just another middle age death
leaving a slightly good looking corpse. unless

i let them do radiation after surgery. unless
i let them destroy what's left of the flesh
with their poisons of hope. i don't think i will.
i like the idea of an oxycotin od. i like
the idea of bliss ninny on the outbound spike.

and i like how i see your true colors
and it doesn't bother me, because to expect
something different would be akin to hope.
and that's a habit i'm trying to kick.