Biopsy, and: Dark Stars, and: The Lesson

Biopsy

I sat in a chair along the wall, you layon the table, I could not see your face.The room was small and white and cold,and I can see the screen, the high ceiling,the rise of your legs, your hips I loveto stretch over, when the doctor opensthe door, puts her hands on your back,and starts pressing into your side. I believed if I could be there, read everything, talkto any doctor I could, I could, by sheer forceof will, make you well. I believedwhoever has the most information wins.Fourteen months later you entered remission.I thought it was over. It was only the start.

Dark Stars

For two days you didn't leave the chair.You sat with the drapes closed and the televisionon, so I got you in the car. I didn't knowwhat else to do. I drove down small hills,over roads raised for tiny streams, past farmssold for larger homes. I wanted you to seethe gullies where the horses stood underbuzzing trees, someone selling cornalong the road. Once, walking aboveOberstdorf, I passed a group of women,and they asked if I were scared,and I wasn't, you were always there.You were the man guiding me downthe Schmittenhöhe, kicking the cows' hooves,and it was you holding my hand overHelvellyn's scree onto the Striding Edge.You loaned me your shoes. I wanted youto see what I did, the path near Friedrich's"Chalk Cliffs on Rügen," the ferry bobbing,the stony islands I made myself walk aroundand the church towers I climbed just soI could tell you. I took you in the car. I wanted you to see what I did, a green worldfull of dark stars. Try to understand.I wanted you back—our son was just born.

The Lesson

Did we walk though town, did we parkthe car, did we try to see the baythe other way round? The oysters pulled in,was this the feast, long tables and smokein the park, there was a storm, we sleptin a bed high off the floor, or did wesit in the car, you got the paper, and we waitedfor day to begin? This was afternoon,we left early, you pulled over, turned offthe car, you said you wanted to teach meto drive. The road was narrow and stiff,no houses, no shoulder, just mailboxesstretched along new woods, and a skythat buckled and bent. I couldn't seethe end. I had no idea what edemawas. I had no idea what our lives wouldbecome. I just liked to watch you pushyour seat back, your legs shift gears, the long curveof your bones, and listen when you triedto tell me what to do. No matter whatyou tried, I couldn't figure it out. You weretrying to teach me to be without you.