mammogram

 

 

 

and suddenly, the stars that pose for pain's, not enough.

never enough.

Because breast tissue sits calmly on

your heart, as two vascular mounds

of flesh and vein

 

it would, he said, send images to him

as he looked at a console and

magnify them 20 times.

 

That there is a place in eastern Europe,

you told me, where the horse chestnuts

grow, erecting flowers as conical clusters

that you hadn't seen,

 

the Pacific you hadn't seen,

after months. Anything Degas

or dreamy. You f*****g my

looming uncertainties,

 

admiring the intense aversion that

substitutes as tears. And it's horrific

to learn of pleasure and longing when the

end is saxony or in sight.

 

Yes, i've gone a little crazy, since

heart-sickness is the red hair of the

village burned down.  But

convincingly

 

somewhere agony will be praised

as radiant; hurt will ring loudest

in the afterlife.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

a really scary experience...another of my friends, going through this...last few showed nothing, suddenly the last one showed stage three...and massive surgery needed...

she is frightened beyond belief...and those images...20 times not enough...

so deep is this write, like all of yours...

send us off into a forest of thought..one we scarcely find our way out of...but the journey is incredible.

[writing mojo]

Wow, this piece is thick with word imagery. Only the feminine side of this fleshed world are inflicted with such pressure expressed from the blouses of those angels in touch with themselves....great piece

[K. Louis]

"since heart-sickness is the red hair of the village burned down" -- what a line. intense write