Mammogram Waltz
Step toward your partner,
Slide up close,
Wrap your arm around that bony shoulder
And hold tight.
Then stand still,
Don’t breathe,
Don’t lose form
Or the dance begins again.
I used to dance freely beneath you.
Your long skirt
Shimmering silver green,
Tulle-like gossamer,
Draped delicately around me
In a tender embrace.
You were planted firm,
Your solid legs bent in permanent plié,
But I felt your gentle sway
And moved with you
To cicada songs
And hymns of leaf rustling wind.
You sheltered me
With diaphanous grace,
Enabling
Points of light to glitter through,
Crystalline with possibility.
My gown slips down
But I stand erect.
I try to glide
But my steps are boxed in
And fear waltzes through me
In triple time.
My new dance partner dictates steps -
Robotically methodical -
Laser-like precise -
I fumble along,
A stringless marionette,
Knowing that I cannot
See
Or feel
What the next dance will be.
My dancing has been
Diagnosed,
Staged,
Surgically re-choreographed.
I do not want to dance again.
I need to draw upon
The cave paintings of my words.
Images I sketch
On craggy, organic canvases,
With earthy, enduring pigments
Are how
I
Survive.
Debra Simon 2019
