that part of me that spread
the cancer through my lymphocytes—
that part of me is dead
(I think)
And there’s a part of me that fears
that part that hasn’t yet appeared
that sent my parents to the psych ward—
that part is nowhere near
(I hope)
And there’s a part of me that gasps
at the parts that I have passed
like a curse on to my daughter—
that part’s too scared to ask.
