When I spit damnably into the wind
my words split, smack
and smear across my face.
If I could turn myself around
no longer facing
and somehow change
is there any release?
…………………….
I am crinkled autumn leaves
caught along this fence.
Nothing but grass blades and prison bars.
We are meant to be free.
And I ache to be dislodged.
This hardened yellow plaque
disfiguring my smile,
picked.
………………………
Today I had a mammogram,
first time touched.
You were precise in monthly checks,
careful to explore diligently,
delightfully each inch.
Today, smashed, smoothed, and flattened out,
like old oak leaves pressed
or yesterday’s angry words lost.
The hospital room was sterile,
wiped and cold.
No wedding ring clicks on metal hold protection
from a fall.
I now support myself.
She tells me,
do not move, hold my breath,
and I am paused.
Saliva gradually pooling in my mouth.
I am so tired of all of this
spit.