Bird’s Nest 

One day,
I discovered this small knot

beneath my collarbone—
a gritty slippery knob, a bird’s nest,

twisted through strata of tissue
girdling bone, surrounded by vessels—

arterioles, capillaries, lymphatics.
She rolled it under cold fingers

over and over, kneading
searching, murmuring a professional hmm,

asking, isn’t it just like this lump
here? guiding my hand with hers

crossing the sacred sagittal line
to finger another node, smaller, but similar

in texture, and what law does it violate,
allowing a reassurance

that cancer does not cross its trope.
I thought: hurricane 

knowing I will die of something someday.
In a hurricane, you inch towards center

where you reach through terror
grasp nothing but this empty cup.




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