Brca 2
Nothing more than a ghost within a ghost*
Bloodstained boots
carry me through doors
into rooms I am afraid
to enter.
Ancestors follow
marked by heredity
generation after generation
at the mercy of their cells.
* Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Eugene O’Neill
In the Bed
Bag of morphine hangs
above my head.
Arms legs itch
uncontrollably.
I mash the button
over and over until
head drops
a marionette
controlled by circling
white coats. No one sees
the missing breasts.
New ones took their place.
