I went out to the backyard today,
and I yelled, "Fall!"
Well actually I yelled, "Autumn!"
because when I call him by Autumn
he knows I'm serious.
"Autumn!" I hollered.
He breezed over from the woods
and whirrled nervously in front of me,
shifting his weight from side to side.
"Look Autumn" I said,
"I know it's mid-September,
but I'm not done with my Summer projects yet.
I need you to lay low for a few more weeks".
Fall picked up a leaf
and toyed with it for a moment.
"Autumn, don't!"
He picked up more leaves.
"Autumnus!!!" (I'm really serious now).
And he flung them in my face.
"Just two weeks!" I yelled,
seeking compromise.
Fall swept across the yard,
turned and glared at me.
"One week?"
It began to rain.
I'm inside now,
sending an angry text message to Summer.
R.L. Johnson, 2018
We did not choose
this voyage.
No one ever does.
Sunlit brochures sit
in dusty stacks
'neath a window
by the agent's door.
"Cruise of a Lifetime"
the cover says,
destination blank.
Nobody dares
pick one up.
There is no line
at the ticket booth
on the end of the pier.
The clerk plays
solitaire all day,
every day.
Nobody pushes
through the turnstile.
Yet every hour
another ship
filled to capacity
leaves the dock.
We left in the spring.
Been shipbound
one year now.
Correction -
you've been
shipbound.
I'm free to take
shore leave
whenever I choose.
But I choose
to stay aboard,
to sleep in your cabin.
No - we did not
pick this voyage.
But we're on
a sound ship.
Captain Blau is as fit
as any on the sea.
Her crew well trained,
well equipped.
From the surgeon's
quarters, to the labs
and imaging facilities,
everything is top-notch.
On Wednesdays
we sit out on the
chemotherapy deck
with other passengers,
encouraging and
supporting one another.
Every night we stand
at the rail, and look
to the horizon.
We make the best of it,
because there is
no other choice.
Saturday night
we went on a date.
You looked in the
mirror as you did
your makeup,
and you laughed
when many women
would have cried.
"I have four eyelashes!"
you said.
"What am I supposed to do
with four eyelashes?"
Then we went topside -
celebrated my birthday -
had a pint of stout
in Blackbeard's Tap Room.
Soon we'll celebrate
your birthday.
This summer we'll return
to the pier.
We will disembark
this ship.
We will drop,
and kiss the ground.
R.L. Johnson, 4/10/2018Chemotherapy
3 of 3 poems from
Her Cancer Journey
The old man stormed
into his bedroom,
cursing, searching
for his glasses.
His glasses
watched curiously
from the dresser
as he circled the room.
His hearing aids
on the bathroom vanity
listened intently
through the doorway.
Though he was alone,
his every move,
his every word
was observed.
So sayeth
the dentures
in the jar
on the nightstand.
R.L. Johnson, 2018
I know,
you don't want
to fight
every day,
to be the hero
every day,
to be sick
every day.
I know,
you don't want
to get up
every day,
to drive to town
every day,
for another injection,
infusion,
inspection,
intrusion.
I know
you can barely
open your eyes
this morning.
But it's time
to go.
R.L. Johnson, 1/1/2018Granix Injections
2 of 3 poems from
Her Cancer Journey
