Marcio Simnch

Deep Tissue

Flunking a breast exam

one week after womb removal

I get the call

that something’s showed up

and I go back to be

prodded, probed and sonographed.

The wand felt good

sliding over my warm gelled breasts.

As it bumped my nipple

I dared not look at its response.

Then “it” appeared,

was marked and printed

(at my request)

for me to take home:

my sideways valentine,

my heart shaped

fibroid melanoma,

so tired and hungry

lying there alone.



Treatment

Murderous soldiers:

micro slaughter

of harmful feeders

squatters in human juice,

aliens whose enemy

is time,

the force against

the bludgeoned door

holding a bandage

of day

against denial

of night.

The joke of radiation:

pissing out the glow,

hairs stranded

in the book of time,

hope to bake ourselves

forward,

to be alive,

to be tasty,

to be done.



The Joining



empty vessels

feeding on loss-

looking for someone

to fill them-

to feel them-

tapping into

floating souls

looking for direction

in the vastness

of unknowable space-

learning slowly over years

to finally know nothing

yet still assign meaning

to the momentary relief of love

we tether to posts of air





Being

…as rippled static

on a wind wakened lake

tending tiny life

that trusts our largeness

mistaking mirrors for people

big in the pants of time

finding the secret of grasping

is holding hands with ourselves

as we search our patterns

and cycles for sameness

looking for certainty

of just one thing

Belinda Subraman lives in Ruidoso, New Mexico. Her poetry has appeared in Puerto del Sol, Main Street Rag, Big Bridge, Babel Fruit, mgversion2, Electica, and Social Justice to name a few. Since 2005 she has been interviewing poets,writers, musicians and activists on her podcast called Belinda Subraman Presents / The Gypsy Art Show and on her blog. She also does digital poetry films. She usually does tell people she’s also an RN. Her main site is www.belindasubraman.com