(This was formerly Ordeal, is found text, ruthlessly scissored up yet again, but it still doesn't have a feel that I'm happy with. I like Punch List much better, it feels done. This just feels like it doesn't quite capture the picture.)
You are taking a random walk
through our online cemetery.
***
Was she able to make a living?
Photography.
Did she have a theme?
A lot of naked women.
She could shoot.
People.
Bondage issues.
She didn't dislike it.
She was aware.
Is this a good place to stop?
***
How she felt
going through this ordeal.
I gathered it from her
bit‑by‑bit, piece‑by‑piece.
She had two red dots
on each hip bone.
Something was trying to tear its way
out of her abdomen.
No water after midnight.
She was awake
during the entire procedure.
Chemo
decimated her skin.
She was left
with jangled nerves.
Opiates had no effect.
What was puddling up
under her was probably
a cold sweat.
She was aware.
Is this a good place to stop?
***
She had a high tolerance to drugs
like morphine.
Regardless, she stole it
anyway.
At various times Dilaudid,
OxyContin, I believe.
Bubble-gum-flavored Xanax,
yes.
A history of depressive
Disorder. Anxiety. Panic attacks.
Issues with anger.
Prozac, Paxil, Ativan.
She was aware.
Is this a good place to stop?
***
We didn't think she was going to die.
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