Her eyes darted around

 

Not meant to meet mine
This is the stuff that they dread
As much we dread hearing it
No one will say the word
That word

They dance around it
With other ones in its place

Lump
Masses

Then the phrases
You need to get his done soon
You’ll be Ok without that too

An appointment

And another

And Scans…
Radioactive scans

Then when you get home
To tell your kids
Your eyes water up
Your throat begins to crackle
Salt Flats tongue
Iodine lies fill your mind

Maybe
There is another way to say it
But the words
Are all tired and cliché

You choke down the vomit
From your dry mouth
And spit out what you can
Behind a scared child’s eyes

Liquor doesn’t fix it
Weed don’t make it go away
Morphine, even Morphine
Doesn’t take the nightmares away

Thoughts of the blade

Invasive
Cold cuts

Like a slab of rotten meat
That’s how it feels
Like a slab of rotten meat
Sitting in the deli case

No one wants
To look you in the eyes

No one wants
To watch this shit again

Then the dreaded visions
How will I tell my mother?
My dear sweet mother.
I wish that I would never
Have to tell my mother