By Alana Saltz
I’m enthralled as I watch a beautiful actor
scribble symptoms in notebooks and cry
when the pain is too strong and see doctors
who seem to know a little too much about
what’s happening, but it’s okay.
I’ll keep watching.
I can’t be that picky.
I ignore all the cues that this will end
the same way as all the other TV
reflections of me, the fun house mirrors
that only show sickness as a distorted, shortened
There was never another ending.
He’s only got one place to go.
His beautiful actor family
weeps over his departure
at just the right time
in the series.
Alana Saltz is a poet, writer, and disability activist living in Tacoma, WA. Her work has appeared in The Washington Post, The LA Times, The Huffington Post, Words Dance, Anti-Heroin Chic, The East Jasmine Review, and more. You can visit her website and follow her on Twitter and Instagram.