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a day of extended anxiety
“on” for the job
“on” for my class

and just for kicks
when I’m tired
to rest my head
a phone call
cancer is terminal
nothing the doctors can do

six months
twelve months
cancer is a carnival worker
smiling to my family, leering at them
a two for one special
and if you’re really nice
a third for free


Between Birth and Decay

My aunt had cancer.
Actually, she still does.
It’s just rotting with her bones in an underground cavern.

Between birth and decay,
it’s the suffering that counts.
Malinger away.

Two other aunts have cancer now.
Don’t they deserve it, never coming to visit
never seeing the suffering until the end.

More endings coming forthwith.


My ex-boyfriend had gone to Miami for four days in April.
I know because I drove him from the airport.

He went to a strip club.
He met and took pictures of girls he met there.
One night on the town, three pictures of these girls.
I know because one morning after he’d gone to work, I looked through the pictures on his camera.

Six months with me, not a one picture did he take.
I know because I was there.
I know because he’s so predictable.

I know because I drove him to the airport.


My dog had a bone
but no meat on it
not even much of a scent
where there should have been flavor and bite

My friend nodded
saying it’s a shame
puppies having puppies
but she didn’t know better

She just wanted a chance at a real bone
but she has the real thing now and I give her bacon-flavored bones everyday

See for the rules of this exercise.

Note: “Miami” and “Bones”  appear to have 11 lines; however, there is one line in each that is  too long for wordpress’s sensibilities.

Am I going to kill my mother? My Aunt Ty died. Now, two other aunts on that same side of the family have cancer. These three aunts have at least one thing in common: they always swore that there’d been a mistake and I was their daughter. My aunts soon to be dead or already so. And I wonder, if I’ve killed my other mothers, am I going to kill my own mother.


SOB with me

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