I saw her scar today,
a prideful star basking in its curtain raising.
(Her black blouse had slipped too low.)
I knew about the cancer, she had told me.
I don’t know why I am surprised by that flash of flesh,
that red reminder of…everything!

I am not a mother. I have no mother.
I don’t want to stay here.
My interpretation of everything, tired refrain.

Read More0