Two Poems

We Measure the Unspeakable with Seeds

My dad calls me to tell me
he has cancer
the size of a peppercorn,
speaking nonchalantly
about the diagnosis
as if this information
is merely a piece of food
he finds stuck in his teeth
after speaking with doctors all day.
At least someone finally told me––
like the way the nurse tells my friend
a faint trace of blood is normal––
but there is nothing typical
about praying on the toilet:
Please don’t let there be blood.
Please don’t let there be blood.
She pleads for motherhood
and the baby she nicknames
Poppyseed because that’s its size
when she finds out she is pregnant.
But then, a vibrant streak
of cherry red appears.
Hormone levels drop.
Not every seed grows
beyond three milli-meters––
the size of a sesame seed
made from titanium,
which the radiologist injects
into my left breast.
Will this set off metal detectors?
I worry about airport security
to distract from the hereditary risk
of having breast cancer
before I turn thirty.
I’ll have to deal with this
every time an MRI scan
deems my breasts suspicious
and demands a biopsy.
I hope to someday see an X-ray
of my defiant breasts look like a night sky
speckled with metallic stars.

***

Love Poem for My Future Valentine

     You’ll know better than to come home with a heart-shaped box
of hackneyed confection and roses from a bunch that’ll be on sale
     in the morning. You won’t try to pawn off mawkish cards
you never scripted or make me take off the same necklace I’ve worn
     every day for a decade. Why bother going out to a restaurant
swarmed with smug couples when you can grill a better steak
     and I can bake red velvet cake from scratch?

     You’ll stand out when you remember the time I tell you
how my grandfather surprised his bride with a long-stemmed easel
     and bouquet of oil paints because she once mentioned
how she wanted to return to making art. You won’t be envious
     when I swoon over Neruda or Kooser’s Valentines
because those men can feed me an assortment of love poems. We both know
     your lips will be my favorite place where words are formed.