Good Days

Days like these it’s easy to pretend.
Not that the cancer’s gone—
You can’t escape the sunken cheeks
and shrink-wrapped arms.
The pill bottles flooding the kitchen counter.

But your brother is laughing and
playing video games with you.
He’s showing you his favorite parks in town.
You’re stopping by a sweet shop and trying
something called a cotton candy burrito.

And he’s sleeping more and his appetite’s back.
His weight is climbing up.
The tumor’s scaling down.
It’s easy to pretend he’s not hurting.
That the doctor didn’t say 2 years if we’re lucky.

Days like these it’s easy to hope.

Feral Girl Fall, Y’all

On Tuesday I cry in bed, convinced that
My dog will be diagnosed with a terminal
Illness at her next appointment
A week from today.

On Wednesday I wrap up a perfectly
Normal meeting with my
PhD advisor by bursting
Into tears.

On Thursday I bag a last-minute session with
My therapist and sob the full 50 minutes.
She says this is the worst she’s ever seen me and
I’m choosing to feel like this.

On Friday I’m all smiles after a mental health day.
It’s a smile that straddles the line between rejuvenation
And abused woman standing over her
Sleeping husband.

On Saturday I run errands, do laundry,
Prep for comp exams, and
Mow the lawn.
My back hurts.

On Sunday my dog throws up breakfast, lunch,
4 shots of liquid, and 2 shots of spittle
In the course of an hour. I’m convinced she has
Colon cancer like my brother.

On Monday I manage not to cry.

On Tuesday I find out my dog is only
16 pounds overweight,
Which makes sense given this
Fuckfest of a year.

After

I used to beg for after
After high school
After college
After grad school

Now I fucking hate it

Because after means
After my brother’s cancer
After his last breath
After his funeral

After is what bursts me
into tears at a red light
After is what makes my dad
sob into his takeout

We can only hold off after
for so long
extending mail holds and
AirBnB stays

After also means sharing
my brother’s stories without crying
After means his pain is over
but I’m not ready yet.

Tense

It’s not the past tense so much as the
conditional perfect.

He would’ve loved
He would’ve hated
He would’ve wanted

My brother lives in a forever space
of assumptions where
other people speak for him

which I know
he would’ve hated.

Damn.