RAP

This week's poetry prompt has been sitting with me, waiting. This one pulled a sneak attack. Me--unsuspecting when suddenly it fell down on me, heavy weight pressing on lungs.

Life isn't for sissies.


Tumor

You hide
for ten years
and now
bend snaky fingers
around
these nerves
leaving
stale sensation
and
bruised pride--
silently
wrapping yourself
around
inner places;
breathing
pulsing
stealing
life’s blood.
I thought
you
were gone
but…
five
and a half
weeks
of radiation
he said.