cw: cancer, death
He only wants to eat lemon meringue pie, and we let him.
Nurses come and go to his chants of toga parties, I
watch these nurses in extra scrubs, with a laundry list of chemicals,
my strained laughter obvious.

Nurses come and go to his chants of toga parties, I
tell him to behave, to be kind,
my strained laughter obvious.
Grandpa sits in the bed, IV attached. My parents watching

tell him to behave, to be kind.
"You're going to put that on me too?"
Grandpa sits in the bed, IV attached. My parents watching
his humor fighting cancer better than chemo.

"You're going to put that on me too?"
He shouldn't have anything more put on him.
His humor fighting cancer better than chemo.
My third grandparent with terminal cancer,

he shouldn't have anything more put on him.
Watch these nurses in extra scrubs, with a laundry list of chemicals.
My third grandparent with terminal cancer,
he only wants to eat lemon meringue pie, and we let him.
Bri Stoever is an MFA candidate at Iowa State University studying Creative Writing and Environment. She is most interested in the connection between humans and their environments including the natural world, society, and our own minds. Her work has been published in Sequel, the Indianola Review, Mineral Lit Mag, Analogies & Allegories, and forthcoming in Your Impossible Voice and Auroras & Blossoms.
header: Wow_pho via pixabay