Must. Finish. Book.

If I’m honest, which I do try to be,

I’m not thinking about it that much.

Despite talking details with nurses and loved ones,

it’s not really-real right now.

Sure, the knowledge squats in my subconscious,

ever present and gently tainting my day,

caressing my life with latex-gloved hands,

but I can write, read, eat, sleep, and love

without being afraid.

At least for right now.

If I’m honest,

I’m ten times more concerned with finishing,

polishing and publishing the new word baby,

which absolutely must happe...