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Volume 1, Issue 2
Summer 2005:


Blanche Rosloff

Cell 2 Soul. 2005 Summer; 1(2):a2

Millennium, by Blanche Rosloff
Blanche Rosloff

In the recovery room, with the plastic cap
still on my head I say,
"It hurts. Rub something."

My daughter appears the next morning
to spend nine hours
working her fingers into my shoulders, back,
arms, legs, thighs, hips, face.

With her touch, I feel my body
slowly ease away from distress.
A buoyancy returns,
an awareness of life.

My husband of over 50 years
carefully turns me on my side.
I close my eyes
and muse
tomorrow will be
a better day.

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