Aluminum
is the color of the Baltimore sky
the day I drive to Hopkins,
the day they scalpel the cyst
from my thigh,
the day I learn the cancer
might be back.
Let’s wait for the results
the doctor says in his steely tone.
In the parking lot
I cry mercurial tears.
The pizza place serves my slice
on an aluminum plate.
A thatch of scratches,
a dent or two,
its silvery shine reminds
me of a Pontiac hubcap
I found once
by the side of the road.
It also looks like a frisbee.
I want to snatch it,
to tantrum-toss it,
to watch it spiral away
into the fading aluminum sky.
© Mel Edden
Mel Edden
The Loch Raven Review 