I.
The weeks when mom drove herself
to radiation then rushed back to work
drilled something into me. A delusional
autonomy? Or a missile-like hustle?
At least it wasn’t chemo! After treatments
we laughed at how the rays zapped
off all the hair under one armpit.
II.
Mom still lost plenty of hair with age
and I will too. The body’s sly protest
against the human illusion of control.
If I could travel back in time, I’d collect
all our dark castaway strands to sculpt them
into hair jewelry. Then I’d be a real artist.
III.
Now, like mom, I drive around in a rush.
Thankfully so far, I’m cancer free!
Even pausing to dream steals hours
until I’m in debt to time. Swallowing
stimulant salts, injecting Botox
under my eyes, I try in vain to pay it off.
IV.
In a diamond hard world, there’s no recess
from this cycle of depletion. All my labor
proves fruitless, like the time I threw away
an old razor that my roommate left rusting
in the bathroom. It ripped the garbage bag,
birthing a new mess on the floor. Still I click
my keyboard daily for this relative precarity.
V.
At Grandma’s funeral last week,
my brother asked if I’d give his kids
cousins. If I don’t, who will care
for me as I age? There’s no easy life,
just moments between alarm’s blare
and the heart’s finale.
Danny Unger is a queer poet and writer based in New Orleans, Louisiana. She works as a therapist, and is a recent graduate of the University of New Orleans’ Creative Writing Program in poetry. During her time in the MFA program, she served as a reader for Bayou Magazine and a co-host of the Gold Room reading series. Her debut chapbook, Dear Egg was published by Tilted House in 2023. Danny’s poetry also appears in Cult.Magazine, Pile Press, New Delta Review, Trampoline, HOT PINK, and elsewhere.
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