Why Moon Jellyfish Won鈥檛 Speak of Cancer
I suppose I should start more slowly,
work up to it, draw you in,
tell you a smart story
about a wolf limping down a country lane
and how the animal is chained to a gray bearded beggar
who is toothless but properly kind
and how they鈥檙e suddenly overtaken by a wind
so powerful
it blows them both clear across the ocean
where they are trapped forever on an island you never dreamed of
but fear might actually exist.
But that won鈥檛 do,
it won鈥檛 tell you how the words
鈥渃ancer鈥 and 鈥淚 have鈥 take on a life all their own.
This tale won鈥檛 take you to that elsewhere place
where time creates a silky pocket
and shoe-horns you inside its pouch
or how you鈥檒l press fingertips to the wall
of that translucent membrane
which divides the just-you from the just-world.
Perhaps if I mouth the words
鈥渨e are not alone鈥
to the trembling moon jellies glowing in the dark,
floating to the surface of an eternal sea garden,
their luminescent hearts would sing out to me
there is language beyond language鈥
would the sting shock you?
would you believe me then?
if I said I am always afraid now
of beginning this kind of story.
Absence in Five Parts
i.
After a week of radiation, I鈥檓 a goddess.
I鈥檓 cleaning closets and cabinets, decluttering my life,
kicking the habit of holding onto useless things.
I am creating a universe of perfect order.
So into the trash I toss
鈥淥wl Drink to That鈥 and 鈥淪ip Me Baby One More Time,鈥
wine glasses bought by a younger self.
ii.
Make room for the new, my mother always said,
and then
throw out what doesn鈥檛 belong.
Now I鈥檓 cramming mismatched socks and crusty flowers
into the mouths of plastic sacks
like baby birds demanding to be fed.
iii.
She鈥檇 be proud I haven鈥檛 flinched
while organizing my life into piles of yes and no.
So picture books from the Uffizi, a poster of the first Star Wars movie,
an 鈥淚 Heart You鈥 stuffed bear I once held, gently,
against my mutilated breast鈥攅ach and all
get pitched into the box marked Savers Thrift.
I take a cleansing breath.
I鈥檝e done good work tonight.
iv.
But I鈥檓 wondering what can鈥檛 be reused with a little more care?
Like the cashmere sweater with tiny moth holes,
the one I mended with invisible thread,
the one she thought I鈥檇 never own.
Then suddenly, and without warning,
v.
there鈥檚 a tenderness underneath my ribs;
Pulling up my shirt, I look at blotches on my skin and鈥
though I know I鈥檓 lucky to be alive鈥攔ight now it seems
my soul is pushing through my chest, and
it will leave behind nothing
but these broken blood rosettes.
In My Brother鈥檚 Recovery Room
Years ago you watched every Superman show,
instructing me on the particulars:
how the Man of Steel can press coal into diamonds;
that only green Kryptonite will bring him to his knees.
But when you told me your hero can split himself in half,
occupy two places at once, I became the little sister of unbelief.
You fooled me so many times, my brother, with
Santa Claus eats little girls and
the Devil lives in the dark space underneath the bed鈥
I never knew which of them was true.
It鈥檚 late now in your small hospital room.
You鈥檙e floating between this world and the next.
The doctors broke you open,
cracking your rib cage, pulling away the flesh,
exposing heart and lungs.
Tonight it鈥檚 you, Nick, with the 鈥淪鈥 on your chest,
a careening line of stitches, cat gut and dried blood;
black circles under each eye,
like the dark face of the moon, forbidden places
no one wants to go.聽 And suddenly I鈥檓 remembering
the day a nail went through my foot
and you carried me three blocks home.
Even superheroes get afraid, you whispered
as I sobbed into your neck. Now
between sips of water, you see angels鈥
streaks of sapphire blue, vermillion, gold,
and one who gives a message
without words in the landscape of pure white.
Now I know all of it is true.
Time breaks itself in two.聽 Love leaves in us a deep, sweet scar.
You tell me write this poem.
I will, Nick, I will
just this once and ever after, every time always for you.
Lois Roma-Deeley鈥檚 fourth poetry collection, The Short List of Certainties, won the Jacopone da Todi Book Prize (2017). Her previous collections are Rules of Hunger (2004), northSight (2006), and High Notes (2010), a Paterson Poetry Prize Finalist. Her work is featured in鈥攐r forthcoming from鈥攏umerous anthologies and journals, including Odes and Elegies, Feminine Rising: Voices of Power & Invisibility, Slipstream, Post Road, Bosque, Zone 3, Spillway, Artemis, and Glass (poets resist). 鈥淲hy Moon Jellyfish Won鈥檛 Speak of Cancer鈥 was a contest finalist in New Millennium Writing Anthology, 鈥淏e Here Pow鈥 issue, vol. 28 (2019). 鈥淎bsence in Five Parts鈥 first appeared in Gyroscope Review (2019). 鈥淚n My Brother鈥檚 Recovery Room鈥 first appeared in Italian Americana (2019).