The oar glides through the water swollen with colors,
escaped from a kaleidoscope - blues and greens and reds,
churned at the surface releasing frustrations from a woman
lost from God, yielding hope with each paddle.
Her evening shower, Sunday before a date with that new guy
with the great hair and the crappy car and reservations
to her favorite Thai place down on Sullivan Street
her only concern, until the moment she wrapped that towel
still warm around her and noticed such a little lump,
hard as dime.
Instant fear remembering her mother’s mastectomy at thirty three,
dead by forty one. The endless pills and treatments that caused her
to disappear drop by drop by drop as the poison took no prisoners.
Sunday’s date blurred. He rattled on about passing the bar exam,
and college loans and the number of Starbucks in China.
Her only concern, the doctor’s appointment (voice mailed) for Monday afternoon.
The oar dipped in the water, churns the colors of the office towers reflected over the river bank blurring the kaleidoscopic water as she worries about the biopsy results due tomorrow. Alone on the water, she searches deep to retrieve courage and wait.
1 July 2009
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