Staring at the image on the screen
was like looking at a constellation
when earth’s electricity is turned off.
Hundreds of little lights
among the nebulous clouds of veins and tissue.
Are there living beings among those stars?
Is this universe benign or malignant?
Even here, in this tiny, yet vast, galaxy,
will there be those that are misshapen or wounded,
whose intent is to harm or kill?
Should they be removed?
Or can they be loved into their truest self,
into what they were meant to do?
Will a surgeon’s scalpel be precise enough?
How many other cells will be sacrificed
to make the body free?
I ask these questions as I open
the newspaper to the headlines.
As I listen to talk of war on the train.
Can we align our bodies
with the true music of the stars?
After the Mammogram
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