You asked me to stay the night
and talk, as we often did,
until first light.
I followed you up the steps
to the bedroom, opened the dresser
where I kept some spare clothes.
Showered and changed.
Leaned over the bed,
rearranged
pillows and blankets.
Soon you were beside me
nestled at my neck and shoulder,
midnight eyes searching blue.
Then came the question,
“Will you look at the scar?”
It made me furious to know what
you’d been through -
a mastectomy, lymph node...