Before she had me, my mum was a PA and wore green nail polish
Before her voice, her heartbeat was my home
sometimes soothing, sometimes racing,
her nineteen-year old brain trying to
decipher her dilemma.
He’d assured her that doing it standing up would be safe.
The consultant and his student are discussing her echo.
See here – arrhythmia, atrial fibrillation, the whirl
of red and blue of tricuspid
He’s sorry. Too risky for open-heart surgery.
Too raw to write.
But somehow I’m comforted to learn
that astronomers have imaged
an unexpected violet aurora
on a faraway comet.
Spangle McQueen@spanglemcqueen is a happy grandma and hopeful poet living in Sheffield, UK. She is proud to have work published onl ine and/or in print by Three Drops Press; Picaroon; Lonesome October Lit; Bonnie’s Crew; Burning House Press; Foxglove Journal; Strix; Awkward Mermaid; Sad Girl Review; I…
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