He’s only 61 the damn cancer appearing
out of nowhere unannounced uninvited unexpected
coming on suddenly as a freight train
in the night but he has more life left to live I shout
at the gods, shaking my fist at them.
Emaciated, his bones stretching his skin
as if trying to escape his body
eyes glazed over gazing somewhere beyond
mouth dry, hanging open except
when he gulps for air like a dying fish.
Whenever it rained we’d get water in the basement
and dozens of shiny black water beetles
appeared out of nowhere
like Kerry’s cancer sent from Satan
and we couldn’t stop them either.
is a retired baby-boomer who now devotes serious time to working around the yard and writing more poems, or trying to anyhow. He recently noticed two Cooper’s hawks staked out above his yard, which explains the disappearing chipmunks.