Welp, I Guess I Must Accept I Am Alive

The laparoscopic surgery found nothing—
I imagined the doctor would find my insides swimming
In cancer, some sort of spiderweb scar tissue
From previous surgeries, so much visceral fat he may be unable to see
Anything at all. My pelvis is perfect and normal and I am not
Riddled with cancer. I was so sure this would be the end. 
Now that I’m not dying, I guess I must keep living. 
Maybe with a little more purpose and less waiting for what is tragic. 
Maybe I’ll have more discipline to take walks and honor my body and more compassion for my lover. 
Maybe we’ll have lots of sex since the doctor removed my tubes. 
Maybe I’ll watch the sunset down by the river more often. 
Dozens of teeny tiny spiders, no larger than a ballpoint of a pen,
Built their webs in the clover. Hidden from view
Until the light from the sunset landed in the most perfect way. 
Much like prayer. 
Imagine wishing for death and missing
This. Imagine no more homemade biscuits with cheap butter. 
No more soups or solitude or photos of the moon. 
Welp, I guess I must accept this life. 
Maybe it’s not so bad. 

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