Fourth Regimen


White coat, hold handle; pause.

Progression, mitotic news.

Settle, focus, deep coffee breath.

The door opens, heavy.


Origami in metal seat.

Aggressive failure harvest.

Drawn, wasted, withering, frail.

Once a person; Mary, Jean, Fred


Skeleton’s eyes ignite.

Head rises, the speed of youth.

No, really, it barely moves.

Shoulders and back bend down.


Deepest question.

Fearsome words.

Thin voice grasps.

How is the scan?


There on the screen, lumps in brain.

Pixels, science, result.

Masses grow, spread, invade.

Metric of malignancy.


Not bad, a little, mind you,

Just, well, maybe, not good.

There is no deadly change.

Not less, a tiny bit, more.


Just a little growth?

A tiny more?

Not good, not bad?

Just the spreading rot?


Here and there, not everywhere.

Left not right, up not down.

Small, tiny, milia, specks.

Same the old spots, no new lump.


The liver is fine.

Bones with holes.

A few nodes.

Feet and toes sublime.


More cells grow, not less.

Cancer in Spring.

More it, than me.

My awful reward.


No wish to end.

You must not give up.

We have to attack.

You always try.


Expire, pass, get lost you say?

Do not be silly.

Do not frown or cry.

I will never walk away.


Here are miracle balms.

The latest thing.

Pink, red, blue, grey.

Mix them up, right away.


The cachectic cursed,

Light spent, the bones,

Fold into chair.

A separate space.


Down the hall, to fix.

Easily you wheel her out,

Our medical faith declares;

We will never die.



  • Powerful, moving poem - a piece of art. Well done!
  • alyce
    Sad and horrible and true. So much is lost. This is a poem that would touch all who have had cancer or are still dealing with it. Sometimes it just won't Quit.
  • Penny Egan
    Beautifully said, sad, and so moving..... May your words help not only the reader, but you when words are put to paper.... Does your mind ever rest? Fondly,

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