Sestina in the Oncology Ward

Liquid life drip drips through her vein

Silly needle: suck the death out;

insisting she drink from your aseptic spout makes her ankles swell

I swallow my gaze with shame

Hands in lap, smelling of sanitizer, as if to say

“I am your friend, no we haven’t met.” Pencilled in till nine

Beautiful creature, just past forty nine

With innocence taken, does youth come in vain

“A winter storm's brewing,” for something to say

Gaunt, sterile windows shut all nature out

“No snow for me this time: no boots, what a shame”

With lopsided smile that makes my throat swell

Today's blood test's harvest glistens and swells
Stroking the screen, her redhead at nine

She laughs, her robe opens with none left for shame

I bend down to close it, know it’s in vain

I open her juice, sponge spills and throw out

Mostly speak softly till nothing's left to say

“You look good this morning!” white lying, I say

“Thank you” at pause comes a grimace, “feel s’well”

Trade tales till nurses’ knock again kicks me out

Giggling while conjuring names for all nine

My midterm tomorrow seems utterly vain

I lie on my pillow, comfortable, with shame

Her children don’t visit, she stashes her shame

Her husband is taking it rough, they say

Six rings on the line, again, in vain

The bag of clear fluid silently swells

We’ll try him again, it’s just five to nine

She’s already sleeping, I turn the lights out

There are no balloons the day she gets out

Instead an IV drip, its presence no shame

First time from bed's grasp since Tuesday at nine
“Refuah Shlayma,” as standard, I say

But “Amen” from her gut, the same gut that swelled

Jolts me back: I have uttered God’s name in vain

Honey borne of shame swells, pumps hot through my veins

Cloud-nine is no goal: good enough glorious, I’ve figured out

Allowing me to say, “Tomorrow looms murky. I did good today.”