A Good Doctor
A good doctor
Makes the recommendation
To have both
Breasts removed
Because of your history and because of World War Three
If it comes back
A good doctor holds your hand
She answers emails
She says have both breasts removed
Lifted off and ground up for food
Food for babies
Food for mothers
A good doctor replaces them with bags of birdseed
You buy her a wedding cake decorated with breasts made of sugar
Marzipan mother breast and marzipan father breast
They don’t speak to each other
They kiss in the dark
The cancer center has comfortable chairs and a view of the Willamette
A good doctor pulls you up by the roots of your hair
Gray jellyfish hair
Lightning seen out the window of an airplane at night
You are flying at night
It’s Mother’s Day
You have a comfy chair
A good doctor is flying with you
Copyright © 2025 by Michael Dickma. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 19, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
“I was moved to write a poem about my mother’s fight with breast cancer. At the same time I had wanted to try and write a quatern—a formal poem I first came across in Paul Muldoon’s work. I failed at the quatern, making instead a kind of ‘cinqtern.’”
—Michael Dickman
Michael Dickman
