Lounge The nurse says they should’ve given me a line-in the first time, straight to my heart. Now the veins in my arm grow hard. FEC chemo is the worst, she says. We’ll sort it for next time. Then you won’t have me here again. She smiles, meaning there’ll be no more need to check if FEC is leaking into tissue. I busy myself, … Continue reading Two Poems by Vicky Morris