Cancer by Michael T. Smith

It was hard to run from this place

when it was a part of me.

There was a war in me,

born sometime in the past.

I didn’t know I was pregnant,

a Hera of personal strife.

There was a frown in me

larger than my womb.

It overtook me, and

here became my tomb.

There was a typo in me—

minutiae to the world at large.

I was a lost cause unto myself,

and more so unto the pelf.

There was a tumor in me—

a queen’s cushion designed

to hold me down, and I

revolted from this “mental health.”

It was harder to run from this place,

when the kindest thing it did was break my legs.

Michael T. Smith is an Assistant Professor of English who teaches both writing and film courses.  He has publshed over 100 pieces (poetry and prose) in over 50 different journals. He loves to travel.