After Cancer
by Leslie Timmins
And there they were
just under the surface of the water,
full of the meat of the body, taut and silver,
liquid with grace,
what I asked for
when I asked to feel again
my own breath.
In the quiet of night,
you beside me dreaming,
I attend to the cathedral of my body,
its scarred and saddened walls,
and what I thought scarce, even vanished,
swims beside me
shark-finned, salmon-eyed,
intent on feeding whatever comes their way,
and I’ve learned not to run to the thinning shore
but stand among them breathing;
and when still I can’t sleep
I think of all the sleepless others
stepping in beside me.
Leslie Timmins has published poetry and short stories in numerous literary magazines. She has lived in France and Germany and now makes her home with her husband and cat a few short blocks from the sea (the sea, the sea…) in Vancouver, Canada.