Abstract
moon thin and yellowed like a lemon,
I didn't ask how long without treatment,
mutinous DNA and all,
but offered my veins to
cisplatin and God-knows-what
as I sat among the bald and bescarfed
nibbling on dry crackers and ginger ale
watching the deadly mélange trickle from
the aluminum covered bag
dangling from a shiny chemo-tree-pole,
as I clung to curled edges
hoping not to fall.