Tag Archives: poetry
Dying Young
I shall live to be old, who feared I should die young I shall live to be old. I shall cling to life as the leaves cling to the creaking oak In the rustle of the falling snow … Continue reading
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7 August 2009: awaiting my own tragedy
Day after biopsy–sitting bandaged in the backyard. An excruciating experience all around–less from the pain of the surgery than the hospital inefficiency, in a corner alone for hours afterward, told I’d see the surgeon–that I must see the surgeon–before leaving. “Before … Continue reading
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Oxford 2005
That moment, that photo, that spring–Trinity term–perhaps happier than I’ve ever been. I slog through all of this ‘survival’ hoping to someday feel that kind of happiness, to have that kind of love and wonder, again. – the kinges power and is … Continue reading
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4 July 2009: a “lived” hieroglyph?
I’d forgotten what a blessed thing Saturday mornings in the Radcliffe Camera are. In Oxford I am always possible–grateful and humbled to have been in some small part at home in this great tradition of knowledge. I’d come into town with … Continue reading
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this living hand
This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou wouldst wish thine own heart … Continue reading
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an abstract insight wakes
Oh my God, I thought: I’ve been happy. Happy like a human being. And it makes me want to not take my pills. I’m not scheduling any more appointments; I don’t want to set foot inside a fucking hospital. I went to UPMC last … Continue reading
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Ash Wednesday
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Not really too hard to do these days. I am so desperate to be alive right now that I wonder whether I am confusing self-destruction with living deeply [“having … Continue reading
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Aubade
I never thought I’d have much in common with Philip Larkin as a 25-year-old woman. I’ve always liked this poem, but lately there are many middles of nights in which it comes to mind and resonates like a train whistle. … Continue reading
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For Sophie: brief interview with hideous woman
Here’s for the lovely, charming & talented Sophie, who’s asking 5 random questions for her blog. Though she be but little, she is fierce. Though this little experiment only partially relates to cancer, I elected to post my response here rather than clogging up … Continue reading
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The Metaphor of Mastectomy, “the past sad year’s legacy”
I had my mastectomy on August 14, and was discharged from the hospital on August 22, two days before my twenty-fifth birthday. I tried to think of the removal of my breast not as the removal of my breast but … Continue reading
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