Mayet On Cita Poem by RIC BASTASA

Cita is as yellow as squash
or egg yolk spattered
in the kitchen floor

as thin as a stick of the broom
and bald
the usual falling hair
and wry smiles

AND
Mayet looks at her with
so much pity

Two months more to go
the suffering will soon end
perhaps
on the scourge
of pancreatic cancer

All organs fail
Mayet looks frail
Searching for the Holy Grail

Who's next to understand the pain?
Who's willing to stop the rain?