Ann and Cancer

Called you today, Ann without the -e
Born coincidentally the same day
as Charlotte and me
then I am Charlotte Ann without the -e,

would have called sooner
if not for qualms
concerning calling a person
for fear that they will die,
then I was afraid you were dead
and I called you-

smooth southern hello on the phone,
told me "Good news!
It's not in my bones"
My chest, yes, my heart no
and it's not in my bones
the tests have said so
not yet, still no
but oh, it's good to hear your voice

and it was good to hear yours as well,
Ann, and you told me,
smooth-southern told me about radiation,
not because it is the slow snake
that will race the cancer
growing fabric in your body
-not bones-
for your life
but because in order to laser-point
your disease
they had to give you a tattoo-

you laughed,
said we should get pictures together
with our tattoos
and that's when I knew you were dying

because old southern women
are more calloused than their husbands' hands
but dying southern women
just want to love their granddaughters.

And I wondered if you were always kind,
I wondered a lot of things,
It's a waste to not know someone
especially when she's your father's mother
and especially when she's your name,

Ann, I carry you
despite the cups of tea
we planned on but left in the cupboard
Ann, and I love you
like a father's mother,
so that I will not say "my dying grandmother"
but instead Ann, without the -e,
and I will call you next week.