If you saw her on the street
You wouldn’t recognize her
She is thinner
Not from matchstick model ambitions
Not from vain competition of women to women
She is thinner
From the nausea that invades her every meal
Ahh, to smell onions sautéing in butter and
Long to sit at the table.
If you saw her on the street
You wouldn’t recognize her
She is weaker
Not from running a marathon
Not from a day of working third shift
She is weaker
From the effort of making new red blood cells
Ahh, to get out of bed in the morning and
Flex strong muscles.
If you saw her on the street
You wouldn’t recognize her
She has a tummy
Not a full round tummy of expectancy
Not a tummy that promises a new life to come
She has a tummy of fluid weeping from pancreatic cancer cells
Ahh, to have again her body free from this cancer
The body we would recognize.