UCLA Journal of Radiation Oncology FALL 2024 and ANNUAL REPORT - Flipbook - Page 27
The Broken Column
Tell me how you suffer—
in brushstrokes or synonyms,
cigarettes or sickbeds.
The gift shop is selling
small plastic skulls and temporary tattoos
of Frida Kahlo.
I’ve had enough of the disposable.
I’ve had enough of pretending I understand
why everything is never enough.
Look at our lives.
We’re lost in a web
of logins, in photos
of a friend’s family vacation.
I never remember all my passwords.
I never remember when I walk
into a museum, my life shifts.
Earthquake, accident,
layers of God removing the dead
skin from my palms. Frida,
I made a dress from your postcards.
I believe we all love something we don’t talk about.
Shattered spine. Fence post leaning against the road.
Illness. How many words are there for pain?
Tell me how the gossip in old books
holds you near,
how whiskey is a valley
you want to visit.
Yes, it hurts to fall—
ache, tenderness
—but each scar is a sign your system is working.
(from Hourglass Museum, White Pine Press, 2014)
