Chemotherapy by Mary McCallum
who knew she was
there
hidden
inside that thing that turns
her girl upside
down and inside out
(poison, really, a
small inefficient
killing field) let
loose in a body still
young enough to
smell of milk
in the morning, one
the mother must
return to sit
beside and stand over
to stroke the soft
cheek, catch the soft
vomit, be steel to
all that
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