There are moments when I forget myself
                    Almost completely.

When soul becomes shadow I midwife the space between
                      Keeping distance.

Haruki Murakami thinks that the line between knowing the truth and walking in a dream
                        Is so very thin,

A literal silver lining, leaving marks on the body
               Splitting open the skin.

The air is as ice itself; maybe not exactly.
      It's hard to tell the state of the wind
From here, where the windows come together
             sharply as diamonds do.

She sits in waiting with her daughter and
      grand daughter. They play guard to
Her wheelchair, waiting for the wind to settle.
          It never does around here.

The car arrives before I turn my head.
        She's lifted into the seat. Forever
Now she'll be sitting, but at least she's home,
        where soup tastes like the milk of the gods;

Then the trio is gone. The clouds keep their steely coats.  
            Back To The Future still running on a tired LG.
She doesn't have long, but none of us really do.
         At least she'll be home, home, home.

1

Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
Preseason. Johnny Manziel, running.
The nurse is a signal caller, too.
She flicks the wrist like Rodgers,
puts spin on it like Manning.
Once a rookie, now a seasoned vet.

2

Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
Network glitch? John Gruden, talking.
Anxiety lurks in the tall grass
still licking its paws. My head's out the game.
I've become an easy meal.

3

Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
If I had another John he'd go right here.
I miss my mother, and how she smiles
like my illness only increases my value,
puts gold in my veins instead of chemo.
Rex throws his clipboard, I lose my appetite.

4

Monday Night Football On A Thursday.
No more John's. Get over it.
Game's almost over. My head fresh from
the toilet, pieces of everything falling out
of me. Broken. Stumbling. At this moment,
football is enough.

I have cancer, but that's not what I want to talk about.
Nor do I want to talk about the cold bouncing in
  from the sliding glass door of the lobby. (The lst
   floor lights give off deceptive warmth.)

I don't want to talk about hospitals, or illness for
that matter because, truthfully, its become a game
  of things I'd rather not discuss.
   If you have an imagination, you get it.

I don't want to talk about the thirty day hospital intervals,
or the way my heart turns seeing my mother watch her son
  soldier through. I can be brave and not feel like talking.
   Because why talk when I have you here, next to me, smiling.