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Cancer

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  • Cancer

    CANCER

    I was sick and wrote poetry
    I remained sick into the morning
    I will fall like my father
    Cancer is my birth sign
    Cancer is my death sign
    Hell is my castle
    I am here but hell is still waiting
    Heaven is a butterfly I saw once
    Lit on a milkweed
    With the yellows and greys and oranges
    Goldenrod and Monarch in a thunderstorm
    I would paint like Van Gogh
    Touch the wings of every butterfly
    As if they were my new born daughter

    RDS
    THE SECOND
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