On Doctor's Orders

BEFORE THE OPERATION

The rain on the car roof
sounds like an audience
shuffling before the big exposure -
my failure to protect you.

I call you by your baby names,
promise you juicy prawns and yellow melon,
your weirdo favourite, anything if
you’ll just come safely home.

You stare at me wondering why
we’re in this fiercely cold place,
parting on Doctor’s orders,
me pushing you in, letting you go.

I can’t fight this, can’t rip
your invisible foe from your cells,
but those that can don’t know
what it would feel like to lose you.