President’s Cancer
My President has cancer
The kind
That killed my brother
Whose detection seemingly
Went late
And though he lasted through
The treatment and his life
Awhile
He was taken by the cancer away
From us
And what he knew
For sure of him
And so I feel strongly for this thing
My parents
And too many others I
Have known
While
This is about you
Mister President
Like
My brother
And I am sorry
And I wish you well through medical
Responses
Thank you for your service
By which we know
How to pray for you
In
Days
C L Couch
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
The Altar
If there is a conflict with
A sibling, I should not
Be here
So why aren’t the churches empty?
No more blood sacrifices,
Thankfully,
Which is not a license to keep
Everything inside the skin
Such pain to allow
Nothing through the pores
A bleeding animal would make nothing
Better, only show brutality
Blanketing repression
We’re told to go away,
Make it better,
Then come back
The church will wait
The temples with flat stones
No more Sunday-best
We’ll be each other
As a codicil to cosmos,
Should the sibling be a neighbor
(secular authorities
consult Henry V at Agincourt
and antecedents)
We are all descendants
Then how full
How empty
How full again
Should reconciliation be
C L Couch
Photo by Andreas NextVoyagePL on Unsplash
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