Dusky edwards

I wait.

I wait for my dad’s biopsy on his nose that’s clearly skin cancer. The sore gets larger every time we see him. Every trip to the dermatologist, he has little cancers burned off from years of yard work without a shirt or sunscreen. I try not to worry. My step dad has deep scars from the removal of the same.

Tonight, more worry for me. My dad has just been told that a polyp has progressed to a tumor. We wait for more information.

Loss due to death, or just the ugliness of life, is becoming too regular. This is something I cannot and will not accept.

I’m not ready.

My dad has always been my constant.

Fuck You, Cancer.