It came from the right side like God, or a deer, a
Chemotherapy strikes at any time.
Where am I going wrong?
Under community skies and red roofed buildings, immaculate
Holding on for next week’s rent,
Even if you were alive,
I’d not have listened,
Missing a father to say what’s wrong
In his opinion,
Old enough how,
To hear sterner words in music,
To understand that the clinic serves Japanese-Americans and Kenyans alike,
On the dusty Main Street of the farming village,
The dusty, ochre-coloured Main Street covered,
With maize drying, and
Women slipping from bus-stop to bus-stop with children in their hair, that was
By a man with a plan – the clinic,
And mum’s words,
Soft and gentle and supportive,
And different from yours;
I can take it now daddy,
Where did I go wrong?
I can make things right now,
The deer came from the left.
And whilst hindsight works in accidents we do not see coming,
At least Cancer gives us time.
♦Photo♦ – laurieanichols.wordpress.com
-short evocative poetry-