yesterday my right hand was whittled in two places

i can feel the sutures tug when i overflex/and every several minutes the constant dull ache gets a brief sharp stab of emphasis

but ibuprofen and the weensiest splash of canadian whisky have been effective pain management

and i welcome the sensation as evidence of healing

on the left wrist until early this morning/ were the enhancements of FALL RISK warning tape/and Adhesive Bandage Sensitivity medical advisory/to go with my visit ID of name°date of birth°date of service°visit code

so the left wrist is a drastically reductive synopsis of my current identity and peculiarities

while the right hand is a reconstruction zone

i am a fall risk in winter springing back from infirmity

and just this instant summer you are perhaps wondering what the lame puns are doing in an otherwise serious poem

there are two answers

one is that the tendency–nay, the URGENCY–of making puns is hardwired into my DNA

and the other reason is that i tasted the first draft of the poem and found it bland

so i added seasoning