The Advice (Cancer) Poem by danae kavouridi

There were three,
cancer beds
on the old house
with the grey crumbled walls.
Actually one,
was a cancer sofa…
They were all yellow,
like old book pages,
cancer is yellow…
cancer is- an old book
violent, torn and hard to read.
The man on the first bed said
“baby why are you so unhappy? ”
my lover left me, she replied.
The man on the second bed said
“baby he will be back but don’t let him in.”
The man on the third bed,
the dark yellow velvet one-
cancer is velvet
like the curtains of a rusty old circus
with the woman without hair
and the mustardy coloured man.
The man on the third bed,
breathed heavily,
a morphine patch stroking
his itchy old skin,
did not say anything…
just left his death smelling breath,
(because death does smell)
inside her lost hug.
And oh then!
Her lover...came back,
she never followed the dying man’s advice,
she let the regretted lover back,
in her shadow of life.
Nowadays, after gloomy times,
she always regrets,
not listening to,
father’s advice.