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The Cancer Garden

They sit covered by turbans.

Each head wrapped in a different color.

Pastels and bright bold shades of pinks and blues.

Pretty patients

who glance around the room

eyes dart like humming birds

tying to solve a puzzle.

Some read last year’s magazines.

Others gaze.

But all search quietly.

Absolute silence.

Tulips in a garden.

Waiting to see

if spring will arrive.



                                   Jim Pahz 

Cheryl's poem was published in Nebo: A Literary Journal. Vol. 30 No 1 (December 2011)

Another Reason My 

Mother-in-law Doesn't Like Me


My refrigerator --

a botanist’s delight!

Have you ever seen such a crop

of blue velvet fungi?

And what of this casserole sprouting brown fur?

Any day now, my lettuce

in its airtight coffin

will become a clump of

slimy-sick seaweed.

Perhaps some salt would help?

The fruits are something else!

Some, like this apple, simply

grow old

collapsing on the inside

leaving a small brown globe

to depict death’s terrain

in relief.

With the banana

death leaves a shadow.

It begins as a small brown rash

gently caressing the fruit

until the banana is swallowed in darkness.

Bananas die a quiet death --

and then scream at me

from the top of

my refrigerator.

                         Cheryl Pahz