The lights are bright
They’re in my eyes

I’m squinting
Small feet dangling over the crisp white paper
Of the surgery table

It comes with the hair, they said
Every six months--it’s invasive
Searching me up and down for signs of cancer
Biopsying and peering down a microscope
That’s just a tunnel to my future

I was seven
On the road to melanoma

Now small children stop and ask
Mommy, what happened to her arm?
A three inch scar that looks like a fish bone

The sun scars
It takes and takes

The pale and the red headed
Or the asian or the black
It takes them all
One by one

What gives you life
Can be your death

Teen girls who don’t understand the correlation
between a tanning bed
and chemotherapy

You are not alone
It sneaks around M.R.I.s
And people who think they’re safe
People who tan golden and brown and healthy and strong
People who are children of the sun
They glow and they bathe
And they die

9,000 deaths this year
76,000 diagnosed
1 person goes
Each hour