Normal

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The crack of bubble wrap underfoot,

your roly poly dance,

drawing your hand in mine,

the cutting up of diamonds.

Our neighbour says

‘it’s good to see you looking so normal’

as she drives past me in our doorway

struggling to fasten your shoes.

And I think as you kiss me goodbye

with a ‘care wool’ hug,

yes, that’s right,

how wonderful, how miraculous

normal feels

after all the pain and the needles

and the waiting for scans

that scar with their abnormalities,

their malignant growths,

their cells that multiply

in weird lumps that threaten

to catch the every day in their claws

and rip it to shreds.

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