1.

I had to get A/C

this summer

I had no choice

.

not the one that refreshes you

the one that burns inside

called chemotherapy

.

red not the least

that’s how they call it

abroad Red Devil

.

2.

after a springtime

quite upsetting

first the diagnosis

.

then the tests results

always the opposite

of what I was hoping for

.

the metastasis going

thank goodness mine was a slow one

the hospitalization the surgery

.

3.

came recovery from surgery

infinite the time of the drainages and edemas

and the infection at the expander inserted

.

we made it just in time

right by the wee day to get to

the medical therapy necessary

.

considered the difficult nature

of the cells mutated in the darkness

of my perfect body as I saw it

.

4.

this A/C is hell

inside of you the portable one

it goes in up your veins all around

.

inside your body

attaching every single cells

you can feel it scorching them

.

you try to go on with your day

– I will rest I will get over this –

but you spend your time

.

listening to set off alarms

to observe what is going on

now in the central part

.

of your poor body

a planet on fire every thing burning

a country invaded

.

busy to defend itself

to free itself confused holds in and release

you sail – filled up with nausea

.

every thing moves

but not you – you have to be still

in the dark in the shadow

.

nowhere to be found it’s the torrid summer

everyone is on holiday at the sea or where is fresh

and you child of the sun – to live –

.

you got your A/C and you stayed home

with nausea but not from a boat

hot flashes but not from the beach

.

transformed in the fugitive of light and heat

as they seem to be the unnecessary flames

that lights the gas in my veins

.

5.

I go out after sunset a bit

if I manage four steps and a bit of a chat

otherwise I observe I lay and lose

.

the good cells and the disobeying ones

the digestive and intestinal

order I have always had so far

.

I observe perplexed this war

my body lives amplified

I though surgery was the worse part

.

almost as observing earth

from far away consuming itself in conflicts

on my top I become the moon

.

on my night pillow I don’t spread any more

the constellations of the serene nights

of my long white hair scattered

.

now I find the stubs of my very short hair

what is left until I will be shiny on top with a new shape

I will have to get used to that too

.

at the end of this complete makeover

that would not leave anything unturned

what light will ever shine out of me

.