Before the Radiotheraphy

She hugs his pillow –
desperate for company,
after what they term
drastic surgery. Dressings
removed a week since,
her fingers track the curve
of a mutilated cheek –
scarred from ear to chin –
a severed facial nerve.

A benign blue light
from the TV reflects
in her eyes. People talk;
blurb that babbles on and on
about trivialities. Everything’s
trivial now, except this;
husband’s out on the piss,
mourning his loss.
A minute to midnight...

studies her image
in the mirror; tries
to smile; a distorted
grimace leers back
at a stranger it fails
to recognise. ‘Her face –
her fortune’, so they said
at school when she lagged
behind in ‘the three Rs’.

Rereads a ‘get well’ card
from a friend, received
a week ago; how
desperately she wished.
Thinks about the mask –
custom designed,
she’ll wear every day
for the next six weeks...
And the rest of her life.