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Please Stop

Beyond what any of us could have imagined.
What anyone could have described.
Part of me wanted to say
Just take him.
I’m powerless: We all are.

This runaway train of tests and results
and the hideous waiting.
Shock and denial kicking in, predictably,
mercifully
for a roller coaster ride that never stops.

Listening to the doctors I stand
slack-jawed, mute.
I appear to onlookers mildly interested.
Where are the incisive questions now?
The cut to the bone I’m famous for.
Even if they need asking
the answers would not be fit
to hear.

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Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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