Ode to tapeA Poem by Amanda Crandall
The poem that came from my brush with cancer.
Each day you find a way to leave your mark,
from the pocket of blood you harbor
in a mislaid fold
to the pink rose stain under my breast
where the perspiration from night terrors dwell.
The darkened stains left from your removal
paint my pale belly to appear like the vineyards
seen in postcards,
the rolling hills of Tuscany.
I wince despite the morphine
like a snail violently exposed from its crevice
my elbow shrinks as the nurse
rips you from my IV,
and my arm hair devotedly follows you.
These slights are overlooked at three in the morning
fleeing to the bathroom on a plugged IV.
Your valiant adhesiveness cradles the tube in my veins
as my arm flies back and I snap an indignant “F**k”
not from pain, but the reminder of the machine.
It was therapy to watch them pinch the staples out.
What replaced them were thin ribbons of you.
I was assured you would come off in your own time.
I wish I had your sage sticky wisdom.
That I would know when it is time to go.
© 2010 Amanda Crandall
AboutHello my name is Amanda and I am an english/creative writing major at ASU. I do not think good writing is a pure organic ejaculation of spirit; nor do I think it is an exacting formula that can be.. more..