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Fight or Flight
by Angela ThomasToday, they're going to spread
my legs and find out what makes
me tick, at least, what makes my biological
clock tick, anyways. They will sort
and sift and find disease, squashing
it where it lies buried deep in the folds
of the tissue that I covet and love
the most. Somewhere under my labia
a demon is hiding, ready to spread,
start attacking my liver, my lungs,
my heart. They always paint him
as a little green goblin with greedy
sharp teeth and fingers, clawing
through your body, looking for sun
that hit too hard or rays from the cell
you called your priest on. He tears
away at your flesh, strips you of your
dignity, like an inmate's first day in prison,
you are his bitch. And when he's finished
with you, he leaves, taking you with him,
outside the room, where you will wait
for your loved ones forever. It's my
cervix, and my cancer, and my battle,
and damn me just giving up this young
body without a fight. 05/10/2004 Posted on 05/10/2004
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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