my plans were
made. so many
weeks scheduled for
treatment; so
many days allocated
to heroic recovery. all
simultaneous with the
rising summer
sun.
i am still
constructing the
world out of
time with my
ego
& imagining
iron in my steely
will.
my resistance must
be weaker now & the
earth is melting
under my
feet.
i find my
body trapped in an
unexpected
valley.
the hosts of
myeloma wait––
sitting on their
horses, along the high
horizon.
perhaps the lord of
my enemy surprised
me with some novel
strategem of
war––
more likely,
i simply deluded my
self about my
fate.