avoiding the truth with bad news

doctors,

OR,

talk of infection.

hurting,

excessive bleeding,

blurry reflections.

medical terms,

outcome unconfirmed,

averted eyes

making us squirm.

scars inflamed;

she's ashamed

of the wounds,

dark circles

appearing bruised.

i tell myself god's to blame.

she will never be the same.

damage's too severe.

nothing left to do here,

but sit and wait for the surgery;

wait for white coated

so-called profiteers

with hands stained burgundy.

i'm lying to myself.

i call it a case of perjury.

is it possible it's cancer?

"no need to jump to conclusions."

that's not a good enough answer.

"the good news is there's no occlusion."

your explanations are plodding,

you're stalling

with handshakes

and assertive nodding.

screw you,

and your desire

to play god.