This poem is taken from Stand 236, 20(4) January - March 2023.

Herbert Woodward Martin On the Flyleaf of Close Range
The husband, in this tale, took a small handgun and shot the cancer
exactly where it has decided to grow in his body, exactly where it
had metastasized. His wife had not been present for the horror.
He had not wanted it to be that official. He wanted to remove his
body from her presence. No other human persuasion was necessary,
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