“Cancer and Five Old Clocks” Rhythmic Stanzaic Poetry, Poetry Workshop 2002
I’d rather wash clothes, scrub a dirty floor,
Than sit here waiting, looking out my door.
To wait takes time that I may not reclaim.
Waste whisks away with only one to blame.
I sit and think. Not having time to die
Does not ensure no pain. I want to lie,
Be bored, regret, complain, and not be scared.
I’ll ask God “Why?” Hell, how could He have dared?
Cancer, I feel alone. I should not wait,
Lying in bed while my loved ones create
New stories to distract me from dying.
I’d rather hear anything but crying.
Instead of sitting by to hear time tick
Away on five old clocks, I will be sick
With passion, paint sunsets, and not stand still.
Tell God I’m not a wasted soul to kill.