Monday, May 4, 2009

Poem #11 Thirty Poems in Thirty Days

The Speech Pathologist

Did you know I almost called you
for your mother’s brisket recipe?

Did you know that I recall
when you worked with Susan
who never opened her mouth
and stared off into a corner
while you tried to teach her
how to engage in a conversation?

"It won’t work," you said.
"She won’t talk to me."
We laughed about the incongruous picture.

Susan came back to class and said,
“She’ll give up soon.”

Four years ago I bumped into you at the Airline Café—
before your order of French toast arrived you said,
“Jeff’s got cancer”—"It's in a tough place."
Jeff, your husband, who loved running and kayaking

Today I went to the lab for a blood test.
Before I took my seat you walked in the lab
with a folded sheet of paper.
We hugged. “How are you”
“Wednesday”, you said, “I found out I have breast cancer.”



Linda © 2009
NaPoWriMo: 30 Poems in 30 days.

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