Jana

2008 wasn't finished with me, not after that screening, my partner Sandra G, the photographer of breasts, unashamed melanoma dreams, is up for a festival, what should have been, dazzling different by the sea, has to fit her chemotherapy, howling down the 'phone, raging in midstream, she shouts through her bones, poets don't die intestate, swept away like leaves, sometimes they dance and stay, she still dances on knowing how i feel, still the only one, laughing at the seams.