Could Be Cancer

Could Be Cancer

Futile attempt to make eye contact

The man in the white coat looms over me in the ultrasound room

Doctor, what do you think?

A plea, a question, a whisper

In a voice that was not mine but emanated from me

He spoke into his armpit

Could be cancer

He uttered expressionless

As if he said could be cloudy with a chance of rain

Words like water droplets remain stagnant in the air we both shared

Discarding the hospital gown

I escape

Only

To later learn

Escaping was impossible