lying still in the machine

my little brother peed in the fridge

on a sleepwalking journey

we had to throw the watermelon away

summer of sour peaches

and overnight emergencies

tracking down grape tylenol and banana penicillin

my spine detached from my eyeballs

drowsy in the back seat

with dry toast and ginger ale

the headaches so bad I could barely see

after I woke up howling at the sun

they began to accept that maybe I was

dying

just like the uncle I never met

a cast of pediatric oncologists

met in low voices

the cat scans showed nothing

but I know my constellations now

I know the wooden cross dressed with lilac

by the stop sign

I err on the side of caution 

I wait for the blinking light

Trevor Graumann is a Winnipeg writer and musician whose work has previously been published in journals such as Prairie Fire, CV2, and Pif. He has a BA in English from the University of Winnipeg.