Widow at the Orthopedist

He takes my right hand gently,
touches each fingertip. I look at the door.

I wouldn't have come.
It's never hurt this much before

Every day? he asks, turns my palm
to the white ceiling. Cross pens clink
in his breast pocket.

No, I finally manage. Some days
I don't feel anything. Some nights
numbness is what wakes me up.

Everything is just so slippery.
Nothing will let me hold it for long.

photograph by Lara Korlara


Mr. Apron said...


birdykins said...

Absolutely, completely what Mr. Apron said.

Teri and the cats of Furrydance said...

sad and true...life

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