Image: Beth | Poem: Molly

Axis

The day they found the lump, I bought a cake,
maraschino cherry tucked in white froth
at the center of thawing black frosting.
I could feel it, a small burning pit
measured six inches above, lilting right of the axis.
I count this day in footsteps--from bakery to car,
to library, to market, and back again,
beneath round things: hanging flower baskets,
the shadowy bluffs in the distance, the bulb
of treetops, the quick threat of clouds.

Everything's shape is muted in the wind.
A blizzard propelled through the weekend, the cake forgotten,
cooling in the refrigerator, brave knife ready.