Monday, March 12, 2007

Calendar Girl

I write prose, not poetry. But every million words or so, a phenomenon occurs, and I feel the need to express myself in verse. This poem can still use some polishing, but here it is in its mind-racing, can't-sleep, night-before-chemo state.

Calendar Girl

I’m a calendar girl –
The old fashioned kind.
My days are numbered
In neat little boxes
Parading across the page.

The boxes compete
For my attention.
Meetings, appointments,
Parties, dinner dates.
See how important I am?

The debris of my life
Spills into the boxes.
Double booking, triple booking,
Elbow to elbow
In crowded boxes.

When the doctor says
Let’s book you for chemo,
I answer, Let me check my calendar
For an empty box.
See how busy I am?

Chemo has five letters.
Strange. It won’t fit
Into any of my boxes.
I must erase
Meetings, appointments, dates.

One box every three weeks.
But I know the truth.
Chemo is a thief.
It will steal my energy
And encroach on all my boxes.

But without it
My days are numbered.
Now isn’t that ironic
For a calendar girl -
The old fashioned kind.


Janet Aird said...

It's making the hair on my arms stand up

denise said...

thinking of you today. How's "The Notebook"

Great to see you last night.

Hang tough (although I have no doubt in my mind you will)

Chris said...

Wow this "Calendar Girl" resonated with my life tremendously! It was beautiful, razors edge, prose. I've shared it with my girlfriends on the same numbered days schedule.

Hang tough and keep blogging...I've added it to my daily calender-check Susan's latest blog!

With any luck you will get this thanks to my teenage daughters:)

Blessings to you!
Chris B.