KNEE BRACE PRESS

A place for stories about chronic illness, disability, mental health, and neurodivergence.

My Sign is Cancer

By

It’s finally out there for all to see.
Sterile gauze shrouds my brown-bruised cheek,
and serves as a sign.

Now everyone can gape at me.
The hurt once hoarded in my heart,
I now wear on my sleeve.

Brimming eyes burst at slightest poke.
Don’t cross me today. It’s not a joke.
So, read the fricking sign!

These 40 barbed wire stitches mean
I need no mask for Halloween
and I’m not taking any crap!

Contributor

  • Joy Nevin Axelson is from West Chicago and holds a BA and an MA in French. Her work has been featured in Foreshadow, Kosmeo, Writing in a Women’s Voice, and Pure Slush. She is the translation coordinator for a child sponsorship charity. She enjoys playing nerdy board games and traveling with her husband and two older children.