I will not offer cancer a biscuit

i will not offer the cancer a biscuit.
i will not pull out a chair.
i cannot spare a blanket.
my body will keep cancer awake all night. i will play loud music.
my heart will take against cancer and leave every time it tries to talk.

i will dance upstairs with a broom that leaves holes in the plaster. but we don’t care, me and broom.
i will make the cancer stand in the corner and answer questions. i will link the cancer to osama bin laden.
i will tell everyone who comes over that cancer is a compulsive liar.
i will insinuate that cancer has unnatural passions

and it will scowl and grab its knapsack and it will leave. it will leave.
and i will sweep out my chest slowly and not miss one mote. i will breathe air and never for a moment think of locking my door.
i will leave my front door wide open.
i will hang ribbons in my trees.
i will tell everyone then that cancer was not so bad. it was afraid i think.
and running amok. which you just can’t have.
just fear.
only fear.
and what we do with fear is make more.

but we don’t need more. just that one bit thank you.
i’ve had quite enough.

and then i will watch the road for dust. for the return.

val