Old Friend

I remember a much younger you, so energetic, so easily scared, so cheaply won over by a treat.

I remember you running in open fields until you realize how far away you are, then running just as fast back to me.

I remember the vet telling me you had cancer, and the impending darkness I endured for two years. When he admitted his mistake I wanted to be mad but couldn’t be. Those years were a gift.

I cherish all the hours that remain to us. I will carry you as far as you are willing and eager to go.

Dead Flowers

I was still in my twenties. A woman at the bar grabbed my arm and asked for my help. But I also would have rather done the tying than be the one tied up. Faraway in time, my doctor was phoning me with the results of the biopsy. I had what he called “an oddball cancer.” Of course, I did. What other kind would a poet have? The woman, her back now to me, was singing along with the jukebox about all the lonely people, a small, crumpled sound like foul dead flower water at the bottom of a vase.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's newest poetry collection, Heart-Shaped Hole, is available from Laughing Ronin Press. He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

Hybrid Children Lunchables

Bio Lab meat? Are you eating your Uncle Fester’s cancer DNA? Bio lab fish genes are spliced with cancer to create a quick-growing mermaid that is evil. Hybrid children being eaten by everyone in this realm. Shame on evil. Bio Lab meat with chicken? Did you eat chicken man? Or a cow and human? Did you eat a Minotaur?? Who is speaking for the Hybrid children of this realm? Did Orc originate from a hybrid pig human escaping a bio lab meat factory? Did you eat your own flesh today in this weird reality where the law says it's okay?

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Legacy

Every moment, Tom aspires to be like the stars in the sky, shining and bright. But laziness strikes over and it’s always a procrastination. But there are life changing moments, aren't there?

Tom’s life changed when Ann, a poet, entered his life. Their friendship made Tom reach heights--he became a novel writer cum dancer. Years went by with huge success until the tragedy hit their lives.

Tom passed away. Today Ann runs a cancer treatment hospital in his name. She started writing poetry, especially about diseases. Ann helped Tom, so now wasn’t it Tom’s turn to help Ann from above?

From Guest Contributor Jesna Maria Jose

The Miqui Smart Home Device

When Blake brought Miqui home that first evening, he spent hours translating the instructions into a form of English he could understand. Miqui had evolved a language much more sophisticated than his own outdated vernacular.

By the next Tuesday, Miqui was finally in working order. It immediately diagnosed him with cancer. His was a milder variety. Six months to live.

Miqui is Blake's only company these days, other than the nurses. He remembers when fish still weren't able to talk. The fish said it was worthwhile he could still recall the good old days. Nostalgia is a uniquely human trait.

Kidney

Because blood had been found in my urine, I was ordered to have my kidneys imaged. After I was adequately undressed, the doctor or technician took a thick wand-like instrument and ran it around my back. I could see what they could see on a small screen. Everything looked fine until a bright orange spot turned up on one of my kidneys. Thoughts of cancer or other possible diseases ran through my head. Would I lose a kidney? The exam was over soon, and I was sent away after being told that the results would be back in ten days.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Not Today

Sam’s touched up face, slicked brown hair and embalmed body, reminded me that he really was gone.

I sat in the front row as family and friends approached, the same words spoken repeatedly.

“We’re so sorry for your loss, Janny.”

The room filled with flowers, from bleeding hearts to white lilies gave an aroma of a florist rather than a wake.

The priest began to speak, and the room quieted, except for my weeping.

Cancer took my husband too early. He’ll never see his daughter graduate college.

Now I must break the news of my Parkinson’s disease. But not today.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Mending Hearts

Olivia’s heart is broken since her husband Stan’s death. His cancer so brutal, she’d weep alone in the bathroom. Her spirits lift slightly when her son, his wife, and their daughter visit, but when they leave it’s difficult to be alone. One morning Olivia is awakened by stomping on the stairs. She regrets giving her son the spare key. The bedroom door bursts open and her granddaughter Molly is holding a white and brown spotted purring kitten. “Grandma, this is your new husband,” little Molly says. “Can you name him Stan like grandpa,” she asks. Some hearts can be mended.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Bare Ruined Choirs

An ex-beauty queen has been found in her bedroom decapitated, limbless, a chainsaw nearby. On the wall, a decorative wooden sign says, “Breathe deeply and calmly.” How do you do that? We need a plan, an intervention, something. In Hiroshima after the bomb, they piled the bodies in the swimming pool at the college and cremated them with scrap wood. Last night when my mother finally managed to fall asleep, she dreamed she was walking through a ruined city in a hospital gown left behind from her cancer surgery, while, in the distance, sirens screamed. Assume the monster is everywhere. From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of The Death Row Shuffle, forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.

Drowning Memories

Alex listened to the waves crashing against the shoreline while seagulls flew above, searching for prey. The sun beamed on his face and he wished he had worn a hat.

He walked the beach, the hot sand stinging his toes. Boats sailed in the distance and he wondered what it would feel like to be free of land, but that thought dissipated. His mind shifted to when he almost drowned and his father pulled him from the water shouting his name, punching his chest until he spit up.

His father was now the one drowning, of a disease called cancer.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher