Manifestation

I play cancer patient with makeup, tracing
the dark contours of my cheekbones and
the delicate butterfly skin under my eyes.
Cancer patients get respect, reverence. I get nothing
but tubes down my throat and in my arms, and I wonder why it is
that my illness is so less regarded when it fractures me
just the same. I draw the death
from beneath my skin and it rises to the surface until
my skin is ashen and grey as the sickness that resides
inside my organs. Suddenly I am sickened
by this manifestation of this thing
and I scrub and chafe and scour my face until my skin
is raw and red and yet the bruises remain under my eyes and
then I realize that the makeup is gone and this is my face

this is MY face

and try as I might I don’t think I can scrub away my skin.