Bad News

the grin longer and more level, the fit of he felt through his thin-soled shoes, features more easy and more open. for all the shade and quiet. Tassie's -Tassie, he said, still by himself, al- brown eyes seemed to be doing all the most. thinking for the both of them. She gave A ride out to Sugar Creek. In his the accelerator a friendly little goose, mind's eye he could see it, in little pic- He slipped a mite on a large gravel tures, off. but recovered gracefully, hastening to Tanbark was an open smokehouse. climb in. What passed between heaven and earth Bad News So there I was simply filling the gas tank When you cruised in and calmly reported You are dying of cancer. So what was I supposed to do, Seeing you once every thirty-seven days, Straining to hear your husky words, Trying not to flicker an eyelid Nor imagine the bleeding, the vomit, the pain, While the gas was spilling and filling my shoes? Well, I'll tell you tomorrow, as I told you right then, We're all dying, some just a little faster than othersAnd missing moreLike singing and watching the children grow upAnd I asked about Martha and paid for the gas, Registering forever the look in your eyes, Wanting me to say just something, more. So I'll tell you tomorrow, as I told you right then, We're all dying. But I still won't believe it As I tear through the gears driving back up the hill And split the hell out of the firewood in the yard And scrub floors until my knuckles are red And as raw as your throat. Then I'll bake two blackberry pies, And I'll bring one warm to the foot of your porch And offer it, still not saying the words, But you'll know, And I'll know. We're all dying. -Barbara Smith 40 ...