december 12
I am a liar

I lie every time

how are you? arrives

I lean towards the question

shape my face into a smile

expose my teeth in two white rows

from behind my mask

I lie
since I won a prize

in the bad luck lottery

I am hip deep

in ripe wheat ruined with rust

my breast is a blighted potato

my breast has blossom rot

my breast is home to a codling moth
my blood has betrayed me

my bones are not my own

my flesh is not what I want it to be

my body is trying to kill me
on the day to go under

I prune green leaves

from the variegated aspidistra

step on a wounded bee

I see a dancing shoe at a stop sign

a glitter star in the gutter

one black feather
january 6
the shamans wear celestial blue

gather around me

bones and shells in hand

as I close down for maintenance

I listen to them

speak an arcane language

only bad cells understand

ten six point one seven

they plot a course

to the tumour’s hiding place 
march 9
other shamans

wear regrowth green

logos and names

stitched above their hearts

lay me out with gloved fingers

a woman from nowhere appears

she draws a blue circle on my chest

says we are curing cancer here

leaves the shamans to their work

to whisper ritual prayer

ten six point one seven
they make an image

of my breast

I am inked

a trinity of tattoos

in the name of the blood

and the bone

and the holy flesh
first they photograph

my breasts from above

then for identity

my face

I am not smiling
april 10
10.58 am
first visit of sixteen

cancer centre car park

ground into cement

three cigarette butts 
I begin

self-service medicine

        1.        Touch the screen

        2.        Scan the barcode

        3.        Proceed to Banksia waiting room

        4.        Try not to think of dieback 

11.15am
we all wait together

all wearing the same gowns

some sit arms folded

hold themselves to themselves

some watch the daily soap

or read about the prince’s love life

others seek sanctuary

in their phone’s dumb light 
we are provided with an aquarium

a sign instructs us

to get to know the fish
11.35 am
the shamans begin

take each arm

shake prod align me

beneath a laser cruciform

they call and respond

ten six point one seven
today’s piped music

‘love me tender’

tomorrow I hope for

‘jail break’
I am left alone

in a room adorned only

with ceiling stars

I am prepared

to receive healing fire
something moves

above then over and around me

it could have been a machine

but I heard it speak

click hum sigh

it could have been a machine

but I saw it glide

a stingray in open water

its bottom-feeding mouth full of steel teeth

it could have been a machine

as shamans put the invisible to work
11.41am
helpers appear

as if nothing has happened here

they hand me a modesty towel

seems my breasts are suddenly bare
the door is opened

IONISATION

no longer

IN PROGRESS

I imagine I hear as I leave

next please!

may 2
final visit

zap zap zap

then the shamans said

that was that

the work of ten thousand

suns was done
at the exit

a parking machine’s

digital font

wishes me

a nice trip 
one in three

one two three

not you

not you

but me.