[33] Morphine and Magic, Claire Rubin

for my closest friend

a stealth pack of terrorists
creeps through her body
speaking in tongues: ductal carcinoma,
leukocytes, lobule, sentinel lymph node
planting mines that burst and shatter
spread into spine and lungs
spread into word dread: metastasis
a crazed duplicating machine
like mops in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice
drugs useless as a book of spells
without the magic of Merlin

let her be a child of six or seven swing-soaring
above leafing lilacs
beyond the reach of wet mops, impossible words
higher! higher!
beyond the smell of Lysol
the drip drip of morphine
let the sorcerer raise his wand once more
and weave a magic spell

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