No Time To Wait

by Robin Bennett
(New Orleans, LA. USA)



How I remember the waiting room,
at my Daddy’s oncologist’s office-
If being eaten alive by cancer isn’t enough-
The waiting room is full of old boring,
dated magazines in stages of disarray.
It smells like chemicals and fear,
and it looks deadly real.

Ugly pictures of a fisherman caught
in a raging nor’ easter. Truly not a
well thought out metaphor, if I do
say so myself. The anti-cancer drugs
make the pale and weak thirsty,
not a water cooler in sight.

Daddy, how can you trust this
man with your life?
He’s a supreme failure in keeping
his waiting room off life support.
You could easily give up
and die in this office.

It sucks the dim light from
your cancer ridden
bones, while you read
about Brad and Jen’s
divorce from what
is now your past life.
The one before cancer.

Click here to post comments

Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to Submit a Poem.

   



Search Here for Poetry



Click here if you love us! Follow Me on Pinterest