R said when he heard the words
aggressive prostate cancer,
he heard location, containment, intruder
confined within hard boundaries,
not parsing each loaded syllable
as its own explosive detail
capable of spreading.
How the mind handles news
that strikes like a cluster bomb,
how it compartmentalizes the sharp
language, keeps it fenced in
with razor wire.
But eventually the words jump the fence,
knock against each other laughing
and puffing their chests
like supervillains, cracking
the blue sky with their fists,
air suddenly thick
with everything wrong.
6 thoughts on “On Attempting Containment”
Your writing is so brutally beautiful
Thank you! I love the descriptor, “brutally beautiful.”
Lovely, Debbie. And universal.
Thanks K-B!
Ms. Hall, I read your piece after talking to a friend about his recent visit to the oncologist. What you so eloquently describe in your poem was the look I saw on his face as he tried to process the implications of receiving a cancer diagnosis.
Thanks very much!