Love in the Time of Cholera

I'm prickly

squirmy

and keenly aware of the salt and pepper curls

falling about my shoulders.

It’s more salt than pepper these days,

but the seductive tickle makes me want to go sleeveless or even

bare.

I want to whisper

Throaty and deep

“Mmmmm …”

but it sounds ridiculous

in my empty home.

As if I could practice

and reacquaint myself

with a part of me I’d thought was

finished.

I consider the curves

of a body I’ve not considered in quite some time

and wonder if she could find comfort,

ecstasy even,

in the plump mounds and valleys that have been

with me my whole life,

still riper for all my years and

thick.

I catch myself second guessing and

on the edge of tears.

For what though?

Need? Perhaps.

Fear? Maybe.

Embarrassment?  Definitely.

I’m a grown ass woman and

grown ass women don’t get swoony

giddy

twitchy,

particularly in the middle of a pandemic.

Damn.

~ Mk Michaels, 2020

Metastisis

me·tas·ta·size
məˈtastəˌsīz/
verb (used without object), me·tas·ta·sized, me·tas·ta·siz·ing.

1. Pathology.(of malignant cells or disease-producing organisms) to spread to other parts of the body by way of the blood or lymphatic vessels or membranous surfaces.

2. to spread injuriously:

3. to transform, especially into a dangerous form.

Long after
I excised you,
the after effects
remained​.
For months
I carved​ out chunks
of necrotic flesh
until I saw the
raw, pink
tissue beneath.

I've had heartbreaks before.
Trials,
losses, and
devastations,
but never have I
been so depleted
by another.

The metastisis of you
spread
from heart
to organs
to blood
to bone,
deeply taking up residence.
Extreme measures
were required.

Radical amputation
followed by chemotherapy,
my only choice,
but worthwhile
considering
the alternative
of allowing
that cancer to
continue to wreck havoc
in my being,
my family,
my world.

Although the price
of severing you
was dear,
and I continue to
dig my way clear,
the gratitude
for losing
the necrotic limb
that was us
is great
and the poison
required
to cleanse me
of you
flows sweetly
through my veins.

Remission
will be mine. 

~ Mk Michaels

Not Disappointed

Hoping for one outcome,
but finding another
it is highly possible 
to spend too much time looking at the closed-door,
not noticing the  open window.

Sheer curtains billowing,
fresh breezes blowing softly
across bare feet
tip-toeing across 
sun-bleached wooden floors,
the scent of tea olives
tickling,
and the sound of birds
trilling their joy.

Fool,
bask in the light of today
for climbing out a window
may prove to be far better than
any threshold you could have imagined. 

~ Mk Michaels