poem of the day 04.07.15

mammogram after

it’s a shit morning in january

bright but it might be ten degrees out

i’m sitting on the edge of the coffee table

already dressed in my coat and hat

sweating as the radiator clinks

my wife is running around

she’s still getting herself together

we’ve made a pact not to talk

at least not until we’ve left the apartment

hoping maybe cooler heads will prevail

it’s the morning of the mammogramafter

the mammogram that sent us spinning

into six months of surgery, radiation

chemo threats, and a shitload of tears

i feel like we just got out of one war

and we’re about to enter another

really, we haven’t gotten out of anything

we get momentary reprieves in between doctor visits

i think i should be strong, positive

any other man would be strong on a morning like this

say something calming, soothing

say i’m sorry i’m not being there for you like i should

but i’m running scared and not moving

i’d hide underneath the couch if i could fit

i’ve run out of so many comforting words

that i’m going to have to start coming up with new ones soon

and my wife has heard more apologies from me for my negligence

then she’ll ever need in this lifetime

so i sit there on the edge of the coffee table

feeling bad for myself and only myself

dully watching our old, blind cat roam around the living room

in that same pattern that drives me nuts

take my hat off and wipe the sweat from my brow

as my wife comes in the room

with that ubiquitous blue medical folder in her hands

and says to me, you ready?

so quietly that it sounds like a bomb.