Cancer Heroine
June Smith, ordinary name,
Extraordinary dame.
Shaved her head
To hilarity.
In front of a crowd
In a pub
For a cancer charity.
She has cancer.
She’s thirty two
But looks groovier than you
Or me or anyone.
She can bite you
With her eyes
And detect lies
Using her very own ‘trickety voodoo’.
Shaved her head
To beat the medics.
Stood proud on the stage
And yelled, I HAVE CANCER!!
Loud music barged in,
Dance, black, arrogant,
June is a dancer !!
Bald, skinny, June Smith
Strutted her stuff
Forgot her sorrow
And chemo tomorrow.
The beer soddened crowd
Yelled in unison that they loved her,
Aloud, ALOUD!!
June Smith then sat on a stool
And she sung
But she couldn’t sing.
She sung out of tune, ‘Wish Upon a Star’
The pub fell silent
There was no music
Tears fell from bedraggled faces,
They fell with thoughts from afar.
She bit every one of them with her eyes
Bright as lamps
A million amps, each one.
She suffered no lies
As she looked into their eyes.
She blew them a kiss
And knew she’d soon be gone.
From that night
I carry a photo of June Smith on my phone.
Taken over the heads of others
Not that that bothers me.
It’s blurred
And so it should be
But not with shakey movement but with tears.
June Smith died
Two days after first chemo.
Three days after her dance.
SHE LIED!!
She said she’d be OK
She was positive.
She loved us all.
She made our day!
June Smith didn’t have children
She never married.
Infertile.
Never could have carried.
June Smith was alone
With too many friends
And too many loose ends.
June Smith – the Lonesome Heroine.
This message has been edited by WondersmithWest from IP address 70.73.239.180 on Apr 30, 2007 11:12 AM
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