from Cancer Diary 2
20 May 2015 10:54: the crazy logic of my dreamscape lingers to mid-morning
the brown bowl is cracked
crazed down its left side —
I unpack my life
next in my luggage —
the delicate cardigan
unravels before my eyes
so we pitch our tent
on the hilltop — views for miles —
not in the teeming maze of
out-lets sit-ins take-aways
alongside us
a pale-blue Ford popular
with three passengers —
as we pitch our old green tent
two women lean in to kiss
awake I realise
that was my mother’s first car —
but whose was the kiss?
23 May 2015 ?pondering a conversation with the artist Andrea Kelland
meeting each deadline
snapshots of my life —
& buy furosemide no rx that final deadline waits
26 May 2015 06:00: ?anxiety dream on waking
dark deep concave pit
witness friable walls crumble —
pitch in & fill it
06:59: hope prevails over mug of green tea
my aquilegia
great-great-grandchildren
of those Denny grew
two mutations have emerged:
deepest rose & darkest purple
04 June 2015?at the histology clinic
those pretty pink tufts
we excised & cauterised —
mere inflammation
Helen May Williams wrote haiku everyday throughout 2015. During 2016, she is completing her mother’s Memoirs, including the transcription of the diary she kept during World War 2, while she worked at Bletchley Park. Her poetry chapbook, Princess of Vix, is due for publication in January 2017.
helenmaywilliams.wordpress.com