Episode 4: With writer Anjali Kapoor Davis

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Episode 4: With writer Anjali Kapoor Davis

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In this intimate conversation, Anjali reads and reflects on three of her powerful poems: Doubt, Portrait of a Cancer Patient (in Abecedarian, after Gillian Wegener), and Banned — a piece responding to the words recently censored by the Trump administration. Together, we explore how these works became vessels for grief, resistance, and reclaiming voice in the aftermath of silence.Anjali is a writer from Fresno, California. She is often found in the company of her octogenarian friends who have way more energy than she does. Anjali is known for her delicious chocolate chip cookies and an uncanny ability to find dogs that have gone for a run without their people and reuniting them. Anjali writes about living with cancer, racism, sexism, and human rights. Her work can be found with Scrub Jay Press in the Wild Blue Zine V.2, Cactus Cancer Society, Remedy Media’s Patient Power Series, and the Yonsei Memory Project.Doubt By Anjali Kapoor-Davis Doubt creeps in after the third class, one hundred plus temps drain my fifty three year old body. Doubt seeps into my pores as I sleep, two hour naps still leave my body leaden not rested. Dragging limbs into the bathroom I glimpse a hunched figure. Doubt looks back at me in the mirror. Questions fill my head as water fills my hands liquid courage to awaken my spirit. I could use something stronger. Doubt waits by the door disguised in brown eyes and fur. I could stay home in the air conditioning and pet him, he says without a word. Isn’t it enough to be a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister? Guilt wants to join the party but three’s a crowd. Doubt leaves me parched, a bitter metallic taste in my mouth, unable to find words to quench its thirst. Doubt pools in sweat under my arms and breasts, the acrid scent assaulting my nose. Even the dog has left my side. Doubt shouts in my ears, ghostly voices of old professors thinking my kind of people can’t play, sing, dance, write, create. The tears begin to form and blur my vision. Doubt keeps waiting for me to falter but I’ve released it on the page, unburdened for the night. Doubt will have to wait another day.Portrait of a Cancer Patient with Alphabet After Gillian Wegener By Anjali Kapoor-Davis Allergic reaction If you read her chart you will know The twelve medications and food allergies That will kill her painfully, slowly, gasping for breath Brachial Plexus Supraclavicular mass, inoperable She rubs in circles above it chanting “you’re just the right size, don’t get any bigger” Praying this roommate is more hospitable than the college ones Calcium Hypocalcemia makes appendages tingle, risking cardiovascular collapse Cow’s milk is impossible because she’s lactose intolerant Combine two parts baking soda and one part vinegar to remove calcifications from a bathtub Diagnosis “You have the good cancer,” smiled the doctor without making eye contact Her ears heard nothing after the word was uttered, though his mouth kept moving Noise cancelling headphones have the same effect Emergency Rooms She arrived in a car, a van, an ambulance Depositing blood, bile, and vile s**t on the wheelchair and waxed floor Leaving a trail of red and brown “breadcrumbs” for her husband to follow Fatigue She thought having a baby, a toddler, a teenager was exhausting Leaden limbs languishing in a heap on the cream shag carpet Did Sleeping Beauty have hypothyroidism? Maleficent has nothing on hypo hell. Genes BRAF, the mutation in her genes The start of an alphabet soup of acronyms she must master Does this mean Professor X will be calling soon and what superpowers come with it? Horner’s Syndrome Was it a stroke? The drooping eyebrow, eye lid, and cheek in the mirror was not there before A constricted pupil remains years later, drooping lid hidden behind dark rimmed glasses The half-smile tells only half her story Imaging Scanxiety builds as her next CT approaches, it’s not a donut, no matter what they say It’s not the radiologist results, but the machine itself, getting trapped once was enough trauma Krispy Crème has a better variety than GE Jugular Go for the ... The papillary thyroid carcinoma listened and obeyed, devouring everything in its path She never could do cartwheels and handstands anyways, she’d blackout now if she tried Kubler-Ross On Death and Dying sat on her parents’ bookshelf, a social workers guiding script Reading about it doesn’t always prepare you to go through these Life Lessons The TBR pile is filled with Agatha’s best; is a fictional death better than the real one? Lungs Filled with air, filled with (second-hand) smoke, filled with polka-dots Wheezing like an out of tune accordion with Trident spearmint gum stuck between its bellows Smoke never did stay in its own section on airplanes and in restaurants. Medication Oval, round, amber hued, white, two-toned, horse sized, she knows her pills intimately Levoxyl, Calcium, Calcitriol, Prilosec, Gabapentin, Tylenol, Imodium Albuterol, ...