Susan Kress

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Double Negative

It’s the third year of chemo—
each round more toxic,

but my mother—bald, depleted,
breast swapped for a blue scar—insists,

See how well I’m doing.

Secretly, I meet her doctor, who lays it out:

She is dying.

But she has not asked.
If she does not ask, she will not know.
If she does not know, it won’t be true.
If it isn’t true, she needn’t say goodbye.

Instead, she’s by the window, sun-
dappled—knitting something

purple for my daughter. She holds it up
for praise. This hat will keep her warm, she says.

Susan Kress, born in England, now resides in Saratoga Springs, New York. Her poems appear (or are forthcoming) in Beloit Poetry Review, Calyx, The Southern Review, Nimrod, New Ohio Review, Salmagundi, and other journals. Three poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.