MY TUMOR LOOKS LIKE A SUNRISE ON THE MRI SCAN
Not to be outdone, but there is a tumor
fanned out like a goldfish
glowing in my gut. It swims perfect
figure eights and half moons,
spreading how the heat of day warms
the bones. It caresses
my belly like a monsoon. Let me explain:
all the pennies
in the fountain are dim in comparison
when held next to the glow
of my backlit scan, a battery-hot bigness
growing. I am filled
with radiation and love for the doctors
who feed me
to the machine. My veins jammed with
blue traffic, a pulse
tugging at the wrists. My tumor is too big.
If it could speak, it would say:
That’s what your mother said. I have
never set fire to a house,
but I have felt the frame that holds go up
in flames. Not even
the moon can eclipse this spangled halo.
This is no ordinary light
teething into the skin of the sky. No false
alarm or fool’s gold.
Kristene Kaye Brown is a mental health social worker. She earned her MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her poetry and fiction have previously been published or are forthcoming in The American Journal of Poetry, Columbia Poetry Review, Harpur Palate, Meridian, upstreet, and others. Kristene lives and works in Kansas City.
Born in Rome in 1989, Leonardo Magrelli holds a BA in Design and Architecture from Sapienza University of Rome. In 2010, he started collaborating with International Rome’s Photography Festival and with the photography publishing house Punctum Press. In 2014, he began working on his own. In recent years, his work has been featured in several print and online photography magazines, and has been displayed in collective exhibitions and festivals.