By John Grey
The man whose wife is having a baby
crouches in his chair like a fetus,
can feel himself kicking.
Another woman’s husband is having a biopsy
of a lump on his back.
She swells from the couch like a tumor,
fights back her thought’s malevolence,
struggles to look benign.
Family of cancer victim can’t help spreading
from one end of the room to the other.
A young mother’s son was hit by a car.
Her mouth gashes like a wound.
Tears well in her eyes’ bruises.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, Santa Fe Literary Review, and Lost Pilots. Latest books, Between Two Fires, Covert, and Memory Outside the Head are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the Seventh Quarry, La Presa, and California Quarterly.