Elisa A. Garza
SEEKING
If I were to hike
the bloody trails of my body
like a conservation biologist,
seeking invasive species
to mark, would I see
beyond the scarred holes
of previous uproots?
The empty cave
of my womb is too dry
for anything to grow again,
but the flattened and scorched
clearing of my right breast
is a fresh mar on the landscape.
How can I locate the roots
of the cancer that grows
deep under the loamy flesh,
beyond the burn’s reach?
Like a fungus
that abides in the soil,
following minute pathways,
leaching into crevices
of least resistance,
undetected,
my cancer waits,
my cancer watches,
ready to tendril into new
untouched regions
of my body, to integrate
into the landscape
until removing it
will require sacrificing
many native species.