BONE SCAN


It was all routine
The ambulance came at 6:30 in the morning
They wheeled the stretcher over the polished oak floor
I rode with you and held your hand

We waited in the hospital hallway
They came and injected you
with Technetium -- the radioactivity
would stick to your bones, and to the cancer

Finally it was time.
They moved you to a slab in a big machine
Slowly, slowly, a box moved, from nose to feet
And then underneath, from legs to head

An image appeared, a picture of you
Sparkling bright specks on a green screen
The outline of a ghost. I showed you:
"Bright Dead Dots" you said.

When they wheeled you out
I went back and looked at the screen
A sun bloomed in your chest -- when I realized
What it meant, it was hard to breathe.

Two weeks later, your sun set.
When we said good-bye that weekend
Knowing it was good-bye, but not
Knowing how soon the end would come
You said "It's been wild."
"It's been wild."