First, Do Some Harm

I am getting a hole in my chest in the morning.
I throw away salad dressings and mustards.
The salsa that is too hot.

Later they will put medicine in the hole in my chest.
The oncologist’s oath should be “first, do some harm.”
They kill you just a little bit.

I am getting a hole in my chest in the morning.
I throw away the freezer-burned steak.
The nearly-empty mayo jar.

Later they will put medicine in the hole in my chest.
The oncologist’s bright turban looks fun to unwrap.
They tell me not to antagonize the staff.

I am getting a hole in my chest in the morning.
My refrigerator is empty and clean.
Just like my bones will be.

NOAH SOLTAU teaches about art, literature, and society to the mostly-willing. He is Managing Editor of The Red Branch Review. His manuscript, Titanfall, was long-listed for the Arthur Smith Prize, and his most recent work appears in Harbor Review, Still: The Journal, Susurrus, and elsewhere. He lives and works in East Tennessee.

I am active on Instagram and BlueSky @noahsoltau and @redbranchreview