Mashed potatoes are a delicacy
when a tooth has been pulled,
the jaw is tender,
and one hasn’t eaten in 15 hours.
poem- sliced 2 October 2, 2015
I was numb,
but I felt the gentle line you drew
across my skin, blade slicing deep.
You stretched me open,
revealed my patched bones,
unscrewed the metal holding me together.
Oh, you sewed me back together,
taped over the black sutures,
and here I lie, propped up against realities,
hoping for the best.
.
.
.
It sounds so lovely and metaphorical, but it’s literal. 🙂 Successful surgery this week to remove the plates and screws that repaired my broken fibula last January. The screws were working out on their own and causing a fair bit of pain. Looking forward to returning to regular, pain-free mobility very soon!
poem-screw you! July 3, 2015
Oh you, Screw,
exiting from bone
seeking a new home
pushing through my skin
in increasing agonies of effort.
As we part ways, may I state
that while I appreciate you having held me together
during that stint of cold weather,
it’d be great if you stay in place until
the surgeon takes you away!
(This ankle pain rankles me).
.
(I only wish this one was figurative, rather than literal!)
poem-sliced January 12, 2015
I was broken.
You sliced me,
knife blade deep,
peeling back skin,
excavating muscle,
exposing bone.
Then you
wound in screws,
stitched me together,
wrapped me in glass
and left a slash of
pulsing agony
to remember you by.
.
.
(Dedicated to Dr. Parfitt my orthopædic surgeon. 🙂 Sounds so much better as a metaphor; unfortunately he did all this literally!) 😉
poem-chemically adored? January 10, 2015
Every hour on the hour
the baby wakes you up
and in a stupor you stagger
to diaper it, feed it, and cuddle it.
every hour on the hour
the incision wakes me up
and in a stupor I reach for drugs
to temper it, relieve it, and smother it.
It is like having a new baby
without the benefit of oxytocin
to make me love the torturer.
Shawn L. Bird 