Notes, poetry and analysis
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I lift up cancer by the armpits and turn it toward its walker. Although
omnipotent, its body is weak as it pushes forward, wobbling
as it goes, miraculously draining life from everything it sees. Amazed
by cancer’s power to outlive our grief, all those who have gathered to study it
grow surly, knowing it has left us dead inside. Still
life continues. I lift up cancer by the armpits and turn it toward its walker. It keeps
going, on and on.
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