Threading
       

Your cancer was trimmed with blue scissors.

You folded like a Parisian rag rug,
a tourist in the sterile, chemo room.

Culled cloth,
little fugues from fingertips,
tissue patterns issuing from your body.

Radiology,
loose ends rethreaded.

Stitched with a sash of mango crepe,
costly silk in venous pleats,
dark yellow.

Your rebirth came as a daffodil cape.

Copyright © 2009 Andrew Demcak All rights reserved
from A Single Hurt Color
GOSS 183: CASA MENENDEZ
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission