When they opened my lungs
There was no cancer
Just fungus encapsulated in flesh
Making bad X-rays but
Doing no harm
So I have tried to trap my guilt
In silence and energy
My anguish in the quiet
Tasks of domesticity
And the seasons
Of a long career
Putting scars
I grew myself
Between those old sins
And the eyes of my friends
Hoping to cultivate forgetfulness
In soil of unspoken deceit
Cy Dillon is a college librarian who lives in on a small farm in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Co-editor of VIRGINIA LIBRARIES (http://scholar.lib.vt.edu/ejournals/VALib/) he also writes a column on open access publishing for COLLEGE & UNDERGRADUATE LIBRARIES.
View all articles by Cy Dillon