What Do I Do Now? by Lynn Glicklich Cohen

What Do I Do Now?

I am certain the ribcage pain I woke up with
is stage-four lung cancer; it would explain
the chronic cough doctors dismissed
as allergies or reflux for which they prescribed
over-the-counter pills that do nothing
but make me tired.

I plan my service: the poems—Glück, Pastan, Simic;
the music—Bach, Baez, bluegrass;
the food—bagels, lox, the works.
My sister will make a photo montage
of me at various ages as she did for our parents,
and some people will see me young for the first time.
Lovely things will be said about me. My brother
will crack jokes; the room will erupt in laughter.

I want my ashes mixed with those of my dogs—
the still-living one, too, once she passes—
and spread a mile out on Lake Michigan, along whose shores
she and I have known so much joy. On that beach. In that water.
Meanwhile, my sister, whose love I trust utterly, will adopt her
and take my place.

I’ll bequeath the inheritance my mother left me
to my friends whose money troubles have forced them
to work too hard, forgo basic repairs, deny themselves travel
and good health care. I imagine them with new HVAC,
in business class, getting mammograms…endowed by my will,
a power greater than any I’ve known in life.

Then, as hours pass, the pain improves, less like a dissonant chord
than an off-key melody. Mostly likely just a pulled muscle.
Why I don’t play Bach, eat bagels, read Glück,
I cannot say.

*

Lynn Glicklich Cohen is a poet from Milwaukee, WI. Her poems have appeared in Oberon, Red Wheelbarrow, Midwest Review, Evening Street Review, and numerous other journals. She was nominated for Best of the Net in 2024.