The Voice of My Tumor
Would an olive-sized tumor,
located on the left hip,
speak in the voice of an olive? Or
perhaps in a high-pitched squeaky
cartoon voice, like Alvin
of Alvin and the Chipmunks,
Or Darth Vadar,
the sinister intonations of
James Earl Jones playing the bad guy.
Never mind - it doesn't matter -
that voice has been squelched,
strangled in a vial and
biopsied into oblivion.
Goodbye, my sweet, harmless,
globby blob. You leave behind
a happy lumpless woman
singing joyful songs of farewell.
If you've any comments on her poems, Jessy
Randall would be pleased to hear