Diagnosis

We cannot treat the cause, only the symptoms

As though this news will be of some

comfort. The whole telling seems to send

itself through me, knowing that I cannot mend,

amend or work towards a betterness. Luck

comes to mind, the odds, the being fucked.

Staring through the air to keep my mind

far away from this, but really the distance

fades into a blur and I am looking closely.

And all I really feel in the knowing is blindness,

my mind turning to de Beauviour, the insistence

her doctor said to guard mother’s diagnosis closely –

the cancer had spread far through her body,

while I resent knowing what’s inside me.