Riding down the road with thoughts of you and our last conversation you said you wanted to kiss me and trail those kisses down and ...eat.. what to eat for lunch better yet what am I gonna cook for supper maybe hamburgers but I got to pick up ...buns..wow look at those totally squeezable ones on that guy in his medical scrubs you can be my...doctor anytime ...oh man speaking of doctors I got my first mammogram appointment ever and not looking forward to being squeezed and compressed... ya know my truck is riding kinda funny wonder if my tire is deflated may need to stop and get it  checked out... hello that guy is totally checking me out isn't he? and that is a no he is checking out my... truck...oh did I ever stop  and get the air checked??and this goes on and on

They tell you nothing.
A breast sandwich.
Breathe in they say.
It's Saturday the angles change.
Take a breath.
It feels strange.
And then homeward bound.
Waiting for checking.
What do you reckon?
(c) Livvi

send out this poem to all that you know
                 Stop the cancer before it grows.

                              PINK

She was dressed all in pink to show her support
Of how she was one of the cancer victims
And how she had fought.

The cancer now in remission and she
Was leading a normal life
But no one knew of her struggles and strife.

It’s hard to imagine when you’re given that kind of news
We can treat the cancer, but a breast you will lose.
You feel violated and ***** by that word
This was something that other people heard.  (not me)

Breast cancer has no preference to whether
your yellow, Black or white - male or female
We all have to fight.

You hear about it every day- and it affects
us all in a different way.
You may think that it’s just muscle and tissue taken away
But ask a victim and see what they say.

A MAMMOGRAM AND ULTRA SOUND IS THE KEY
TO HELP YOU LIVE CANCER FREE.

The spitting image
Was just in spitting distance
When she pricked herself in the spindle
And fell into spinet
Then ended up in the hospital on Guerrero street

The two dunderheads
Compared biceps
Engaged in a ******* contest
Their **** was red, forgot they had eaten beets
Now they're on their way to the hospital on Guerrero street

The embezzling imbecile
Who invented mystery meat
Was selling cowlicks at the concession stand
He had a heart attack when a horse voiced mulatto paid him in coins with no cash value
Now he's on a pram in the hospital on Guerrero street

The improviser had a bright idea
And epiphany
There was a light bulb above his head
But he was taken by the under tow and got water logged
Now he's held up in the hospital on Guerrero street

The beggar women ******* from a rusty spigot
Who studied the doctrine but didn't read the document or get the memo
That she was due for a mammogram, she was distressed
She could barely make ends meet
So now she brings he tin can of pennies with her to the hospital on Guerrero street

Amidst the unfortunate
Amongst the idiots
There is me, the one who got his hand stuck in peanut jar
Sitting in the waiting room damning myself in the hospital on Guerrero street

Pat, pat pat: what am I?
A puppy, a shoulder, a mammogram?

What makes me what you think I am?
A feeling, a line, a telegram?

‘ghost’     ‘angst’

     ‘wade’     where one might

‘weep’

he began to kick the place apart in his mind but didn’t finish.
some of the chairs were already down and the tables nailed.

she cut her knees and we said why

‘underwater’     the knife was there and my wrists

were also     ‘courtship’     ‘breadbasket’

     her face to which the years had not been kind but he could tell
they’d been polite.

I know my mother     ‘merestead’

‘mammogram’     I know my mother to be haunted

by a fetus     father took his hell

*to basement
where his food
came up

For Pat Stone*

            I remember you from a time once before dinosaurs roamed
the city streets, reeking of peach scented candles and boxed wine,
yearning for some sort of darkness.
            Reading from the novels of Stephen King as if they
were revisions of the bible.
            Who found darkness in a mammogram and shoved it into
her pocket along with the rusty brooches and earrings.
            Who lost love with an aneurysm.
            Who lost love with withering age.
            Who lost love with pneumonia.
            Where the remainder of her loved only existed in her short,
black hair growing from the roots of the past.
            Where her eyes look back onto the golden infinity known as
the old cornfield next to the big red barn of Mid-Western-Minnesotan  
conformity.
            Of the calls made to mother regarding how she'll die each time 
she notices something new.
            Who cried with me when mother had left me for sailing the sky.

            Oh, she was the mother.
            The mother of a generation much like mine.
            The mother who was the domestic wife in her natural habitat of
pots, pans and aprons.  
            The mother who was softer than the belt.
            The mother who kept family gatherings illuminated with award
winning short stories of brother, brother or sister.
            The mother who dealt with apocalypse that was Karen Grenier
as a child.
            The mother who did it.
            The mother who created lives and the mother who took death
as one of her daily pills.

            Brother, brother and sister now out the door, gone to make
their marks.
            The mother who was left only to mother the darkness in tastes of
boxed wine and Stephen King.

I threw up all over the floor at Planned Parenthood
Waiting for this ******* mammogram
This routine procedure
That could tell me whether or not I have cancer
Whether or not I have to cut off my cleavage
And find another source of sexuality
This routine procedure
That could casually change my life
And royally **** me over
This routine procedure
That kept me up through the night
Tossing and turning and bawling my eyes out
This ******* routine procedure
That I've been waiting 20 minutes for
Surrounded by other women
Who are probably getting the exact same thing done
And they're totally ******* fine
Nobody else is retching like a ******
Because this is a routine procedure
And I have nothing to be worried about

Thanks for the kind words
They were a soothing welcoming balm to be heard
Feb seems to have exposed some life schisms
I was so distraught I checked My biorhythms
Everything in front of My eyes is soured and scrawny
I resorted to ' Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani '
So much of My life is stirred and shaken
I often feel forsaken
How much do I have to endure ?
Is mindfulness the ultimate cure ?
My car was stolen and trashed
I now learn Spanish on the bus while being thrashed
My medical state reveals the industry scam
I don't have big enough male ***** for the mammogram
Rule one thing in and another thing out
I only wanted a cyst drained or cut out
New left shoulder arthritis and left sided neck pain
Bed Bath and Beyond's pillow department made that gain
Please keep Me in Your prayers as I effort to rewind Me
Pushing the bad away with ' satan, get thee behind Me ' ~

Thanks for the kind words
They were a soothing welcoming balm to be heard
Feb seems to have exposed some life schisms
I was so distraught I checked My biorhythms
Everything in front of My eyes is soured and scrawny
I resorted to ' Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani '
So much of My life is stirred and shaken
I often feel forsaken
How much do I have to endure ?
Is mindfulness the ultimate cure ?
My car was stolen and trashed
I now learn Spanish on the bus while being thrashed
My medical state reveals the industry scam
I don't have big enough male ***** for the mammogram
Rule one thing in and rule another thing one out
I only wanted a cyst cut out
New left shoulder arthritis and old left sided neck pain
Bed Bath and Beyond's pillow department made that financial gain
Please keep Me in Your prayers as I effort to rewind Me
Pushing the negative away with ' satan, get thee behind Me ~

Truth,
  the social mammogram

Forgiveness
  —chemotherapy of the Gods

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Breaking bones.
Break my face.
Inside a voice thats laced with hate it tastes
Like sour grapes. And stains
The shades of make up on my face..
Until it becomes a break against the tidal waves.
That brave the way. To break against the colossal. Impossible odds. The stones. That make me feel this way...
Like hands massaging.. me.
My arteries.
The marching feet. That carry. All of me. To deposit blood upon the sand...
Acknowledge me.. again
As not a man. But a goddess. In the grand...
And make honest thought to keep me in your plans..
When you want to be my man...
*** pain ain't strange...
When beauty. Comes from scars.
That shape my skin.
Like Mark's upon a treasure map....
The pleasures max.
And now my spinal makes a final crack...
And lines of marching. Ants.
Take sweet sugar. From my hand and plant it in my mammogram.
When feet feel cozy.. my nose gets rosy. *** I focus on that. So mybody pain ain't half as bad.
How does God manage that.
My wrists crack. And my face racks.
Tackle matter in my ***.
And spread mass to make it fat.
Like every chick. Who ******
The guys I liked.
And left their heart.
In bags. For trash. So they could cry to me.
And ask for guidance. *** I'm a man.
And not an object for attachment.
******. God if you want my ****.
You can have it back.
******* snap my back.
Compress my tissue. Bone
And body fat.
Until I scream. For mercy.
Little *****. See blackness
Smell disaster.
Should come faster. But I'm scared
With every fraction.
Of Intelligence. Still left.
Inside this shattered mind.
Left behind
By peers. Who grew in comfort
While I became an addict.
And a savage
Just to hide the sadness in my eyes...
So my dad. Could laugh and mask his
Hiding lies behind depression.
Regret. And life lessons
I held to hide.
Like every girl has thoughts about her father
When their nine.
So I did every opposite..
At development. And centered life around a lie.
That creeped inside.
Like snakes to slide. Like leather hide that hides a knife.
Inside a pocket where no mods can grow
Although its wet inside
But that's my life. I need to try.
And live it right.
I love my kids and popcorn.
But the rest was just inside.
I ****** everybody's life.
So it's time to dusk the fields
So moons can rise. And light the
Paths. Of every mindful ray of light left in my eyes.
And still my tummy rumbles.
It's a jungle when harambe.
Captive.
Lashes out against. A cavity
Till it breaks.
Like waves against the sand.
And shake my hand.
And say my name.
It makes me wet. To
Know you want me.
Now that I dont want you back

You see I lost my faith in God
When he allowed a ****** to be forcefully deflowered.

Something I'd been taught was so important to him
Of course it's a him. Why else would my crotch matter?

And yet when I had already forsaken an absentee God
I had a tumour, one new enough and large enough
That I needed more than surgery

Xray over mammogram over biopsy,-chemo lingered a Threat.

My mother held my hand and I could see it in her eyes
She was trying to contain the thought that I'd be dead
Before the new year, with the size of my tumour.

I did not feel at the time. I'd seen her face the second visit and I hardened.
Death nor chemo nor invasive surgery,
Nothing could have scared me more.
Nothing more than that look on my mother's face.

Like I was already slipping through her fingers and she couldn't-she tried to grab me, just to drag me back to her arms
But she was too scared the disease was faster than her.

She nearly tried to fight the tumour herself,
And I imagined she most definitely would if she could,
She'd gone full protective, even snarling at her own mother
Especially when she mentioned my low chances should it be bad.
My mum nearly bared teeth.
She was always a fighter, through and through.
She may have seen a world without me for s second
But she refused it.

I suddenly had a new diet,
A new exercise regime,
And a ridiculous amount of vitamins.
If I had a radioactive spider bite. I'd probably be stronger than thanos at that point.

I thrived, I was safe. She cried so very hard and to this day she checks in everyday like I might slip out of her grasp again.

I can't blame her, so I reply everyday I keep my appointments,
My xrays
My biopsys.
I'm so young for this
But no one was ever too young to die.