My Great Breast Cancer Adventure

Ode to Autumn's Cauldron

Ode to Autumn's Cauldron

I had to post this as a file, because the line breaks don't show up correctly, when I do a direct post (unless I make the text so tiny that only a munchkin could read it).

Also, btw, in case you wonder about the "womb" at the end, it's there because in mythology, a witch's (or goddess's) cauldron symbolizes the womb:

When one sees a picture of a Witch, she is usually depicted with either a cauldron or besom or both, as there is much association between a Witch and her cauldron.  In the Wiccan tradition. . . it is the cauldron that is the true womb of the Goddess.  Its shape represents the womb of the Goddess. Because of the association between the Witch and her cauldron, this gives great power to the cauldron.

The Celts associated the cauldron with fertility, abundance and rebirth. The magic of the cauldron is the magic of the female.

The cauldron is seen as rebirth and transformation in that we go from life to death to life again. As such, the Cauldron is associated with the Crone Goddess such as Hecate and with the womb of every woman. 

Oh Glorious Day!

Walking home after
the doctor's decree
one leaf quivered
above her head,
like the memory of
of a love she'd
never had.
Sometimes
that was enough.

She wore the cold,
climbed the hill.
Another leaf
fell down to her feet.
Camera in tow, she
stopped to shoot
a close-up of its face, then
placed it in the palm
of her hand
and asked a question.

Curmudgeonly gingko,
faded yellow,
cracked all over,
dying and soon
to be covered in
piss, said only
this: Beware
false prophets.
Then turned its
deaf ear,
refused to discuss
her prognosis.
Oh glorious,
glorious day.

My Year on the Couch

When cushions
held my spine immobile
I learned to dwell
as a serpent does,
more amphibian
than woman. Pink pills
bought me time.
An inch or two or three
from done, I gripped
the remote
on my makeshift raft
and watched the screen,
unwavering. My eyes
glazed over -- beady,
reptilian, rudimentary --
unable to interpret
the truth of my location.

Now I can stand and
make my way down the hall
all by myself. It feels good
to reach the door, to
have a hand that's
strong enough to
turn a knob and pull.
I stroll outside, feel the wind,
am dumbstruck by
my neighbor's stairs--fifties,
gray, cement—skinny rails stark
next to barren stucco walls.

Back at home, I return to
the couch, sit down
in front of the fire we bought
from Overstock.com. Flames
draw me in
despite their lack of
crackle or smell.
It's so much easier
to please me now,
now that I know
where I am.

Battle Call

 
New cupboards stand
at the end of the bed.
Two matching soldiers
at my command. They
just now arrived
on a truck from Ikea.
 
Particle board, moveable
shelves, pale birch veneer.
I hunker down here in
my bunker boudoir,
preparing to spring
into action.
 
My handbags begin 

their mobilization. Stacks

of jeans and pairs of heels
form battalions. Black
and blue, red and brown,
chartreuse green--all
await my orders.
 
One breast gone,
the 
other rests
beside 
the chest
that's now a

holocaust 
inscribed
with scars. What a
warrioress
 I am,
oh yes.
 
So here's the plan:
handbags, dresses, pants
and shoes will guard 
against
the foes that plot
to raid my fortress. 
Mirror mirror
on the wall, who's
the fairest of them all?
That will be my battle call.

Seance: A Message from My Former Left Breast

Spirit is here, sends
you her love,
wants you to know
she's sorry she had to leave
so soon. But says
not to worry,
she's doing fine.

There's something
about a scar, it's fairly new.

Do you understand?
She wants you to know
it's less of a monster

than you imagine.
Stare it down.



She says to perceive her

as a loyal emissary,

the part of you
that has gone on ahead
to clear the brambled path.

Your sadness
isn't necessary.

She's chuckling
because she adores
that she no longer needs

to be lifted, contained,
restrained or redone.



At times
 she'll feel
an ache of desire,
to be
 suckled,
fondled or kissed.
But mostly
those wants
are just wisps of the past.


At the moment
she's exploring Jupiter.
Soon she'll leap over

to Mars. She maneuvers
like a hummingbird,
rapid and strong.
There's nectar
everywhere she goes,
even in the stars.