Here is a poem I am working on for my cancer poetry book. Would you make any edits to this?
Fighting for your life is boring
6:45 a.m., parking lot with the same four cars.
Truck, SUV, VW Bug and red Audi
in their same four spaces near the staff entrance.
In the clinic the lights flicker on
room by room:
Break room, hall, reception desk;
then the front door opens.
Walking the same path with my
green bag and ID in hand,
the same women greats me with the same sad smile
and buzzes me in.
The mind numbs.
The routine doesn’t change –
sameness without end,
Routine and protocol are the cure:
same beam at the same spot,
small doses day after day,
to end the cancer.
Endurance becomes the key.
Just need to keep putting
on the gown
and lying on the couch.
And each day the cheerful chart nurse
stops to tell me of
another famous actor
I remind her of.
Till next week,