I failed to notice the cancer had crawled inside me.
I failed to see that my file wore a black armband,
That above the gate were the words,
"Behandlung macht frei"
Although I suspected it when they tattooed me.
I did not weep until the word chemo reached out for my golden hair.
Hard-won belongings began to run away:
A portion of my brain, two of my legs,
My stomach, my womb, my job,
And the happiness of my Beloved.
I worked hard at my new map, studying
The nodular region flagged by the steel probe,
Pin-pointing the forest of silver needles,
Penning the template of invisible rays.
Friends waved to me from across the border
Throwing flowers grown in my old world.
"You're so brave!" they called, sadly.
I watched for compassion fatigue settling on their smiles.
My mother said, "I've baked you a cake. Can I have
That brooch back? Oh, and the book of hand-painted butterflies."
His sister said, "Look what you've done to my family.
Why can't you give my brother some respite?"
My Beloved lit two candles and whispered,
"These shall go out together."
Now I dare not phone to learn if my cardboard box
Has melted in some Icelandic bank.
If not, then you are welcome on my steam train.
I shall be lying down by then,
But I hope you will all be seated First Class.
("What a strange funeral"
"She was a strange woman.")
I shall not follow you back along the tracks.
***********************
I wrote this today, and wasn't sure whether to post it or not, but it's how I felt this afternoon. Penny G, copyright 13th December 2008. For anyone not reading German, "Behandlung" means treatment.
