Lessons in Scrying Sarcoma
by Arlene Ang
Mornings are enough;
I don't need help:
the nightdress unclasps easily,
I use both hands to sit up,
reach for my glasses.
The purple spot on my right
arm is new: mid-summer,
an unscheduled visit
that causes temporary blindness;
reversed, a man bringing
irises, a broken tooth.
The bathroom mirror aids
in examining the lumbar area.
A dark star grows around
my third rib, its aureole shaped
like twin pears: I shouldn't
eat raisin bread this week.
Behind my left thigh, the bumps,
injected with interferon alpha
have diminished: a move
to a new location between
two streams, perhaps marked
improvements in CBCs.
Later, my daughter teaches me
how to use liquid foundation
as if training a Victorian
parlormaid to inform unwanted
callers that I'm not home.
Arlene Ang is the author of The Desecration of Doves (iUniverse, 2005). Her poetry has appeared in flashquake, Forklift Ohio, 42opus, Pebble Lake Review, Poetry Ireland, Rattle and elsewhere. She received The 2006 Frogmore Poetry Prize and is a poetry editor for The Pedestal Magazine. She lives in Spinea, Italy. Her website is www.leafscape.org/aang.