well. it’s kind of what we expected,
even on a winter morning bright as this.
and heaven knows you can’t be protected—

or your loved ones—from this casino of risk
they call life. cancer. it’s an ugly word.
but just a word (he gestures with his whisk),

just a word. and from everything i’ve heard,
those doctors know exactly what they’re doing.
now, some people like to say faith is a bird

to bear you, but others say there’s no sense in gluing
your hands together just to pray. i say dregs
are part of life’s coffee. what matters is the brewing.

well. you’ve still got arms. you’ve still got legs.
and you still gotta eat. (he smiles.) i made eggs.

B.J. Best is the author of seven collections of poetry, most recently Everything about Breathing (Bent Paddle Press). His favorite meal to make is pasta carbonara.