A man in a conference
Screams out a lifetime's anger.
But his hand beneath the desk
Caresses the rough wood.
Meanwhile the speaker
In suffused decorum
Summons cancer to his throat
In an effort
To displease and please
The whole assembly.
Membranes
Not needing utterance
Are no longer
At his fingertips
Because each echo
In the room
Is chemotherapy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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