Today
I walked into radiation
for the last time.
Same room.
Same machine.
Same strange blue light
humming above me.
But something was different.
I knew
I was leaving.
For months
I lay beneath that machine
and tried not to think
about what it was doing
to the thing inside me.
Today
I thought about tomorrow.
No appointment.
No waiting room.
No gown.
No countdown.
Just the door
opening,
and me
walking through it.
I don't know
what comes next.
But for the first time
in a long time,
next
sounds pretty good.