My second publication is out there.
It’s not a smutty romance story, and it’s not a sci-fi/fantasy. It’s a poem.
I wrote it in response to Indiana University Simon Cancer Center’s call for submissions of short prose or poetry from warriors, survivors, and caregivers about the cancer experience. I couldn’t think of a story I wanted to share, but I came up with a poem and shared it.
It’s about bees.
But it’s not really about bees.
That’s what’s fun about poetry. Stuff means other stuff. It’s all very deep.
It’s available in their collection, “Writing About Cancer,” from IU’s Simon Center, and the proceeds go back into their programs, which, as you might imagine, are pretty important to the folks in the middle of this.
The timing on this one is good for me. I’m writing this post swathed in bandages from my eighth (and hopefully FINAL) reconstructive surgery to replace what cancer stole. I look a little more like my old self every day.
I also smell like a monkey’s armpit because the bandages stay on for four days after the procedure and not only can’t I shower, I can’t even reach to smear on deodorant. It’s as lovely as you might imagine.
But that’s the price I (and everyone downwind of me) must pay for me to look like a girl again.
And sometime next week I’ll get a little package from The Bookpatch self-pub site, and in it will be my author’s copy of Writing about Cancer.
My first physical book, since the smutty romance was e-only.
Cancer takes, but in tiny ways, cancer also gives.
I hope you enjoy my poem.
Writing About Cancer