Poetry by Susan Parman
The nerves in your feet are damaged from the chemo that no longer works. It is hard to concentrate. Your doctor says you are “between solutions.” Does he mean you are dispersed, like ink in a vial or a fart in an elevator, homogeneously? If you were a math problem you would be an integer in search of the right equation, the correct solution to an irrational number. You have a mind that demands solutions. You line up the facts, the yoga, the Swedish massage, the acupuncture, the passport and travel brochures. You line up your hungers. When faced with a coin tossed in the air, you always know which side you prefer. But some days it is too much. You allow the opioids to kick in— their own kind of solution. Must you be dissolved to be solved? Let each molecule of you be irreducible. Let each moment left to you bleed into the air, the water, the earth. See solve. From Latin: loosened; freed.
Sue Parman is an anthropologist and award-winning poet, playwright, writer, and artist whose works have appeared in The Antioch Review, Lumina, VoiceCatcher, Journeys, Slant, The Hiram Poetry Review, and other journals and anthologies. Poetry collections include The Thin Monster House and The Carnivorous Gaze. (www.sueparman.com)