Carol Lynn Grellas poetry

Of God Go I

When she pressed my nipple flat
I flinched inside and tried to hide
myself in me, as if there were

a way to save the peace of yesterday
in the midst of opened robes
and fasteners freed, while images

were made of lumps and memories
that dared collide with how my breast
had lied each day I’d lain upon my bed,

then asked my hand to read in Braille,
probing for this pea-sized thing,
a hidden ring of mass within the skin

that bloomed unseen, deprived
of starry legs that bring a cancer in
while floating near the 2 o’clockish part.

She said it was benign and marked
me for another checkup in a few months’
time. And then I placed my opened palm

upon my heart, concealing just a portion
of my jostled breasts. She walked me back
without a word, yet, reassured, I tugged

the loosened lace. Humbled with my gown
around my feet I prayed,
There but for the grace…