Thursday, March 16, 2006

POEM - Cancer, The Rounder

The hands of the cancer place you between callus palms.
It spins you around like rolling a pencil
Just to see where you point and how you end up.
The hope just dribbles out leaving you empty.

It spins you around like rolling a pencil,
Like Abraham hauling up the bulk of his faith
The hope just dribbles out leaving you empty
A hoisted promise onto the altar – poised for intervention.

Like Abraham hauling up the bulk of his faith
Before a God who demands a pound of flesh
A hoisted promise onto the altar – poised for intervention
Wanting proof but maybe just a breast will do.

Before a God who demands a pound of flesh
Dealing fear like fingered poker chips
Wanting proof but maybe just a breast will do.
The great secret held to the vest: minimize all loss.

Dealing fear like fingered poker chips
Wear the poker face cancer asks of you
The great secret held to the vest: minimize all loss.
Cancer – the great rounder – seeks only one hand with you.

Wear the poker face cancer asks of you
There is no sucker bet and you are no easy mark
Cancer – the great rounder – seeks only one hand with you.
Taking what the river gives with no sign of “the tell”.

There is no sucker bet and you are no easy mark
Made dizzy by the chemo and heavy wagering
Taking what the river gives with no sign of “the tell”
The hands of the cancer place you between callus palms.


M C Biegner3/16/2006

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