Thursday, September 17, 2020

Poisonous Ally

 Here's the poem I wrote before my fifth chemo infusion, first one post-surgery.  (Sorry for the duplication if you subscribe to my Caringbridge page.)

poison that heals,
ally of titrated dose
that kills only the intruders,
the interlopers who
would steal everything.

Bless you, poison,
consecrated to the
six directions as you
flow through receiving
channels.  Let us keep
out of your way.
After all, you were invited.

Even if muscles go slack,
empty mouths fill with
metallic taste, bodies slump
into waiting recliners,
let the slender threads
drift away and fall
like dust motes.
Poison and healing,
paradox of the age,
you are a mystery
of moving on -
like a river,
like a cloud,
like a life.

Saturday, September 12, 2020