1.
Waking up
middle-aged
descending
to a kitchen
like the inside
of a lantern
with the babe
a flickering
babble when
you pause
at the running
faucet to ask Love
can you feel
my breast O
no O no
is all
I can say
collapsing
finally
the spark
catching
2.
Another morning
sirens roused us
to the specter
of a businessman
static with ash
He was confused
where he was
On Water Street
we craned our necks
receipts cascading
the exponential rose
blooming through
the second tower
An old woman fell
to her knees O
no O no How
your tears then
scattered the road
out of the blast
breathing our choking
malediction lost
in the crush of
the multitudes
reborn from dust
Thank you
for crying
for us
3
We drove into
the deepening
blizzard
to the bar
of an inn where
I confessed
you confessed
tabletop votives
around us like prayer
then took you home
and could have
let you go
into black trees
blue snow pale moon
but followed
and turned you
around with
my voice Then
kissing in the brisk
capsule of the car
idling beside
loose farmyard walls
snowflakes occluding
breath-blearing glass
Then serpentine
the mountainside
slicing swish around
harrowing switchbacks
along a river
unfrozen within
Then climbing
indiscreet stairs
to the tall arc
of your spine
in the old bed
in the old house
as the cinders
nestled in the
cast-iron stove
wind gasping
in the rafters
In the morning
you opened
your eyes to the
bright cold room
with your wild
wide smile that asks
What’s next This
early morning
eyes closing
you’re whirled
away from me
into another
bright cold room where
they will excise
the ember of
your disease
You are going
where I fear I
cannot follow
______________________________________
From Dan O’Brien’s Our Cancers, courtesy Acre Books. Copyright 2021, Dan O’Brien.
