Scrum

I have stage 3 colon cancer, diagnosed in May '25

the players push and pull,

back and forth, round and round

to possess their version of the

American pigskin and to score

their version of the American touchdown

 

my brother understood the scrum,

he was the one who played rugby

after all…

 

and the verse here is penned a

few hours away from the center

of the continent…

 

and I’m in the center of that scrum,

and it’s not one team versus another,

it’s an everyone against me scenario…

 

the severe abdominal pain,

the higher A1C readings,

the blood clots in the legs,

the poison shoved through the port

 

and the list goes on…

 

the chemicals are screaming

‘f**k you” at you at least

five times each round, but jt

feels like even more than that

 

the near constant lethargy and

the hair on the head isn’t as

plentiful at it once was

 

and the steroids to keep

the nausea at bay are

necessitating injections of

insulin into the abdomen

 

again, the list goes on and on

 

he told me that this was my battle,

my cross to bear as the divorce was his

 

and I get it, and I wish I didn’t

 

and now, I don’t even know if the

future will be bright enough to

transition my lenses from the indoor

to the outdoor setting…

 

and each day feels like I’m outdoors,

on a rugby pitch scrumming for their

version of the golden snitch

 

but these days aren’t golden,

these days are a giant scrum

of s**t-coated refrigerator junk

 

remind me to wipe the s**t juice

off the toilet after I’m done