The smell of new curtains

It came from the right side like God, or a deer, a

Migraine warning,
Chemotherapy,

Under community skies and red immaculate buildings,

Missing Daddy,

Old enough now,
To hear sterner words,

To understand that the clinic,
On the dusty Main Street of the farming village,

Serves Japanese-Americans and Kenyans alike,

That dusty, ochre-coloured Main Street covered,
With maize drying, and

Women slipping from bus-stop to bus-stop with children in their hair, Paid for,
By a man with a plan – the clinic,

And mum’s words,
Soft and gentle and supportive,

And different from his;
I can take it now daddy,

I can make things right now,
The deer came from the left,

At least Cancer gives us time.

Even if your dream never comes, live it like it’s the only dream you have.

It will come you know.

Tomorrow.

Published in: on November 18, 2017 at 00:25  Leave a Comment  
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