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
One with Clay, Image and Text 