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Red

by Marcia Davis-Cannon

Fire engine red
Marichino cherry red
In-your-face-with-no-apology red

The color of my dress
for the first Christmas party
after surgery.

Slinky,
Showing off my abdomen,
Still flat from the tummy tuck.

Sleeveless,
Barely covering the scar
from the lymph node removal.

Backless,
Allowing no bra to equalize
my quite uneven breasts.

But no matter.
I was alive,
and I danced.

Marcia is still dancing, still wearing red, and still writing poetry, even though she no longer squeezes into anything slinky.

This poem has previously appeared in When Words Heal, by Sharon Bray.