Snow Day

Cold silence overtook his body before

the central line went in; before the port

in his neck, a permanent pothole that

jarred his sleep, his turnings left or right.

 

Suddenly the wind begins to howl, a

frigid wind that feels like burning.  As

mists and flurries accompany blizzards,

so plastic gowns, gloves and masks

accompany the nurse bringing that bag

of miracles, a bag so caustic she must

protect herself from the coming onslaught.

 

Swirls of snowflakes driven on a west wind

sweep across the city, obscure skyscraperss,

pummel persons huddled on the street.

L-cytarabine swirls through his bloodstream,

drip, dripping its way into every crack an d

crevass, coats every windowsill, every cell.

 

Just as ice buildson each cold street where

flakes accumulate,wherever cells attempt to

replicate dead cells pile up, clog the  kidneys,

clog the liver, sores dot the mouth,ankles swell,

stomach retches.  Traffic snarles, slows to a stop,

snow falling on good and bad alike.  Confusion

reigns, but the whiteout is spectacular.

 

first published in The Rockford Review