Surviving Breast Cancer

I look at the flamingos, Going from one limb to two wings. I look at a woman, my wife, whose mastectomy Made her go from two to one breast, While her hospital gown had a little pink ribbon on it, That broadcasted a stark reality, That used to swell out from her chest. And I…

A War Mum with a New Born

Gravity-defying stunt Of how the lap-work cradle Of a mother, in horizontal transfer, Makes little waves of sleep Under an ebony tree. He sleeps through the sounds Of night owls and fruit bats Not knowing the difference Between the two. Yet looking constantly out at The breast that feeds, the child suckles The nectar, not…