Panic - Poem by DeAnna Esquilin
It’s the smallest things about you my friend…
The most inane jesters..
Like Nubian royalty
A moored Goddess
A brown Barbie doll
With a heart like a tank
With flowers in it’s plume
In your proud brow
Set neatly between
The reincarnated eyes of Nefertiti
There has never been a crease?
Not since I’ve known you.
Not in response to a question you didn’t understand
Or an off handed remark
Or a perplexing riddle
Not when they robbed you of your breast
And your hair fell out
Your pride & glory fell in clumps
You rocked wigs Ru Paul would envy
You giggled in fact
Made light of being 'lopsided'
Still “hot” but boobieless
The “baddest b@#$tch” ever
Not even the first time the chemo didn’t work
(it's god's plan)
Not the second time
(it's god's plan but I don't like it) you said
Nor the third!
I don’t think I recall.
(Dear God, please help my friend)
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