Cancer has me

Two in one day. I know!!

Got a phone message today saying that my aunt, who has multiple myeloma, is in the hospital. Things have been looking worse for her lately. She's survived almost 13 years so far with this disease, but it's nasty. Much worse than breast cancer (not a "good" one, for sure). I don't have details, but this is her second hospital stay in the last several weeks, and I know her current chemo has been extremely tough. So I'm feeling some concern, and it makes me reflective.

So...I guess this is kind of for her...

[ ]

Cancer has me
by one ear, like
a truculent child,
and marches me
to the window.

"Hand it over then."

All of it, turns out.

The collector, fat-faced,
flat-mouthed
Brushes each thing with listless fingers
as I thud it
protesting
on the counter

Lean brown arms and legs
(The muscles wither,
lying there--)
Breath, gassy and bright.
Clarity of thought,
a smooth skein--
the collector scuds a thumb
in the middle, leaves
a tangled heap.
A row of tomorrows,
lined neatly like dice.
The collector sneezes, and
they tumble
one into the next
and lie still.

Hardest of all, that rounded thought,
opaque with certainty,
solid as eggshell
surrounding me,
that I am safe
and blessed.

At the end, I stand
not naked
but stripped

Some things they let me keep.
I hold them
piled like smelly clothes
as Cancer shoves me onward,
a boot to my back:
Fear. Pain.
Regret.
Long hours
in which to know this all.

The door behind me,
with a clang...

It’s not a cell, but
Vast white, limitless
Nothing

I can’t see where
to put my foot.

But my arms open
and let fall what I held
so my fingers can pull
from under my tongue
a talisman,
smuggled,
now in my fist.

Cancer is on this side
of the door--with me--
But quiet now,
unseen;
I won’t hear a breath
Until one day
That boot crushes my neck.

Right now, though--
this moment--
Warmth starts in my hand,
hard with victory.
I close my eyes.
I melt into whiteness.