For those of you who may be new to the blog, Monday is a very special day here at Ultra Sounds. Every Monday we publish a creative work by someone who has a connection to cancer. It’s not just patients that submit, but friends, family, service providers and health care providers. Anyone who feels they have a connection is welcome to share their experience.
You don’t have to be a professional to submit something, in fact we hope that this site will be a platform for experimentation – a chance to test the waters of sharing your creative works. See the column on the left for submission guidelines and to see the archive of previous submissions.
Today’s submission is the third part in the Barbara Crooker/Irene Miller series. Barbara has given me permission to post a series of four of her poems that she wrote while a friend was dealing with cancer.
Until next time
SHE TELLS THE DEALER, THREE MORE CARDS
by Barbara Crooker
A thin sickle moon hangs in the western sky
over the house where my friend used to live.
Her blood count decreases, as cancer deals
her another bad hand. Her backbone is turning
to ivory dust; her platelet counts diminish
in spite of transfusions. The sky is a vault
of black ice; the starry dust of the Milky Way
flung over our heads, Wisconsin to Pennsylvania.
She is buying new clothes for spring, a ring
of blue topaz to wear at night. She has backed
dark horses before, long shots going out at 100:1,
and won. She plays blackjack, shoots craps, gets comped
at Reno. Even though these odds are stacked
for the dealer, the house, she keeps on playing,
rolls the dice, rattles them bones.
Starry dust by Irene Miller