The theme for this month’s Poet-Collab assignment is “Hope”.
1995-2001
The children’s cancer ward has visiting hours
from six until eight on weeknights
All day on Saturday
Children who look like Casper
Whose first words read were ‘radiation’ ‘x-ray’ and ‘doctor’
Seen on signs which were passed during long gurney rides
Bald heads, white skin, vivid eyes
Who watch their roommates fail and succumb
Boy asks, ‘Daddy, when I grow up and have kids,
will you still be my daddy or my granddaddy?’
His father cannot answer
Neither, he thinks
In a room filled with colorful toys and balloons
Meant to distract
Parents are told to listen for
unasked questions
not to tolerate tantrums
and arrange for sibling visits
and yet still the boy
–who has reached his insurance mandated lifetime maximum in medical expenses
at the age of five and a half
and has passed the stage of ‘treatment’
ran out of ‘curative’ options
and is ‘living with’ now’
still whispers in a tenth floor private room
‘I’m going to be a race car driver’.
http://poet-collab.diaryland.com
Have you seen these?
It’s not over until your brother counts the votes
Feral Girl raised by wolves desires Rouge Pulp lipstick and some hair gel
Nothing but a gimmick, baby, just a gimmick
Magic 8 Ball says: It is unclear
All I want is a room somewhere… wouldn’t it be luverly?
