by Katie Farris
At the oncologist’s office, a man stares. I stare back
until he says, “People must stare at you.”
Why bother closing a door
when everyone demands it open?
I go to the world with my tongue out
and my shirt unbuttoned, my keys
in the lock,
a six-inch scar instead of a nipple—
how can a watchtower hide?
I am well-positioned to seek out
fires and invading hoards—
my bald head the beacon the first
Last updated March 11, 2023