observation

by natalie hanna

you have torn your plaid skirt
wide at the side seam
but have no change of clothes
until your sister fetches a dress
from your untidy home
ferries it over, as you race outside
desperate to feel cold air on your face
at the door of emergency 

            you are making breakfast and
            your mother is dying of cancer           

            until she is not

the dress is the yellow of farm fresh
egg yolks, ataulfo mangoes
you will later cut in total silence
hearing your every measured breath
in the darkened living room
while she sleeps 

            maybe she will not be dying of cancer
            maybe she will be dying of chemotherapy, radiation 

                        ( that will shrivel the remaining cells
                        that escape the scalpel's margin of error ) 

            until she is not

            you are making breakfast, in the yellow gown
           and thinking of how your mother
            did not die of cancer
            eleven years before 

you lie beside mother, reclining in a chair
fetched from parts unknown
her gown, your gown
her mask, your mask 

the doctor who returns, nine hours later
to the cramped, curtained room
in observation
to tell your mother that she has cancer
pauses first to ask
if you've changed your clothes
that's a nice dress, the colour is pretty
are you going to a party later?

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ABOUT THE CREATOR

natalie hanna (she/her) is an Ottawa-born, queer, disabled, lawyer of Middle Eastern descent, working with low-income populations. She has authored thirteen chapbooks, including titles with above/ground press, infinite redress (Baseline Press, 2020), and the collaborative chapbook machine dreams with Liam Burke (Collusion Books, 2021). She received an Honourable Mention for Arc's 2019 Diana Brebner Prize. Her first full-length poetry collection, lisan al’asfour, is forthcoming with ARP Books in November of 2022.

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