Mammogram After Devon

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Superman in the sun.
The sky a vast stretch
of sapphire summer.
We dig for white gold
in the shallow waves,
feed chocolate biscuits
to the seagulls. You help
dig a tunnel to the sea.
The afternoon is made of
sandcastles and smiles.
A perfect picture postcard
of a holiday, a little boy
playing in paradise.

We drive back
through broken clouds.
The waiting room hits me
with the last time I sat
on this plastic chair.
A bad feeling,
a very, very bad feeling,
a crab crawling in my gut.

She shows me photographs
of what’s no longer there.
It’s been a year since nothing
spun the room around.
I am summer speckled,
sand in my toes, scarred
like a star fish, but I still
have the sun on my face.

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