Author's Note: Here are some of the poems I wrote in response to my diagnosis of cancer and the reality of entering treatment. I remember the sense of dislocation and unreality, of separation from the world and your own body, like being stunned by a heavy unexpected blow. And the avalanche of questions, the fears, the uncertainty that becomes ever present—all of it. This all happened 14 years ago for me, and that is the other important thing to know and hold on to—survival happens. 
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Diagnosis


Now I know
but the sentence seems
all out of proportion
to my petty crimes
it floats in front of me
like a fallen moon
shining its cold light
on everything
so I can’t look away
and pretend it’s gone
just another mistake
I can forget
as I push all the furniture
back into place
and dust off the wallpaper
and try to ignore
the floor splitting and cracking
under my feet
falling away
into space too dark
to remember

Appeared in the Birmingham Poetry Review No.32



No More Than This


Since the cancer I feel
like the man who went over
Niagra Falls naked
and survived
pulling himself up
on a rock and getting arrested
for his dangerous success
his brazen disregard
of common sense
and public ordinance.
His crazy luck
sets him aside.
He can’t go by
the ordinary rules.
Each day he has to recreate
himself, skin and bone,
memories and dreams.
Each night he sinks
into oblivion, and wakes
every morning, erased.
Often it is only
the most extraordinary act
that will convince him
he still casts a shadow
still lives in the simple
limits of the flesh.

Appeared in The Comstock Review vol.22 no.1



Stolen


There is always something
more to lose.
Even when you think
you’ve been stripped
there’s more to take-
gold teeth and fillings
fat and skin and bone
your organs nestled
in the flesh like gems
in velvet boxes.
You can’t imagine
how thorough
these thieves can be.
When they are done
ransacking
you will be left
only a shadow
with nothing to show
for your pain,
not even a word
traced in the fog
that hides your face
in the mirror,
not even a print
left like a signature
on something you once owned.

Appeared in the Tar Wolf Review winter/spring 2005



Breaks


Some separations come on
Slow as fog
Sifting in unnoticed
Until the road dissolves
Beneath your feet
Like a broken promise
An uncertain smudge
A signature erased
Nothing left clear enough
To trust

Or in some morning’s light
The world stares back
Strange as a face
Slipped out from under
A familiar mask
A sign
Like crows rising
From a roadside kill
All the furniture is rearranged
In a sudden abruption
Disjointing time
Until it moves
Slow as glass
A liquid paused
A momentary solid
A stone in my throat

And I get stuck
Where your words fall short
A tangled lariat
Holding nothing
That might catch
And pull me back
Inside