Blue Freckles

Not sure if I’m going to be doing a whole series of cancer poems or if these are just a temporary product of adjusting to my new state. At any rate, I found myself writing this in my head in the middle of the night as I lay unable to sleep. I’m still too close to it to judge whether it’s any good, but I decided to post it anyway.

 

BLUE FRECKLES
Lying upon unyielding plastic,
I stretch out my arms,
not to the side like
crucifix Jesus,
but above my head
in the age-old sign of surrender.
In the next room,
a technician flips a switch,
sliding me into
a whirring, clicking tunnel,
so a machine can scan my contours
and locate the exact spot
from which a surgeon excavated—
not buried treasure—
but life-threatening malignancy.
That task done,
the tech tattoos three indigo dots,
on my sternum and
each side of my ribcage,
a trinity of blue freckles
to serve as a map for future treatment
and the guiding stars
of my voyage to survival.

4 Comments

Filed under poetry

4 responses to “Blue Freckles

  1. Margaret Pruter

    Moving, Ruth.

  2. I particularly like the last two lines ‘and the guiding stars of my voyage to survival’. Nice.

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