monkishness

While it is virtually impossible not to be aware of my brain tumor (thanks to my persistent limp and chronic timidity), it is possible (and advisable) not to ponder it.  Nonetheless, now and then, I am given to a contemplation--a monkish Rubik's-cube-ation--of the phenomenon itself.  It's a precarious proposition this skull-bound dual-duel.  To be mindful of the brain, a brain full of mindfulness.  

I wrote this poem a couple of months ago while considering a different aspect of the tumor --not as a blatant antagonist but as a subtle foil.  Neither a smite from without nor a blight within but as a pesky part of a puny parcel.

A Few Notes On the Tumor

The tumor is not a freak of nature.

It’s a diplomat thereof

Come to finagle territory

For the motherland.

The tumor is not an interloper.

It’s the lash of a flagellant

System unleashed to rein-in

The hominid pride.

The tumor is a new idea

Bethought by a cellular

Synod in thrall to the orthodox,

To time immemorial.

The tumor is a tag-a-long

Whose watch is synchronous; it’s the ape

In your shadow, the familiar

With whom you share contempt.