Panic Poem by DeAnna Esquilin

It’s the smallest things about you my friend…
The most inane jesters..
There
Like Nubian royalty
A moored Goddess
A brown Barbie doll
With a heart like a tank
With flowers in it’s plume
In your proud brow
Set neatly between
The reincarnated eyes of Nefertiti

There has never been a crease?

Never
a
single
wrinkle
of
doubt.

Not since I’ve known you.

Not in response to a question you didn’t understand
Or an off handed remark
Or a perplexing riddle

Or Cancer.

Not when they robbed you of your breast
And your hair fell out
Your pride & glory fell in clumps
You rocked wigs Ru Paul would envy
You giggled in fact
Made light of being 'lopsided'
Still “hot” but boobieless
The “baddest b@#$tch” ever

Not even the first time the chemo didn’t work
(it's god's plan)
Not the second time
(it's god's plan but I don't like it) you said
Nor the third!

I don’t think I recall.
hmm?
Not ever.

Until now.

(Dear God, please help my friend)