Poetry Where You Least Expect It
Who would have thought a broken
left metatarsal bone could inspire poetry?
Not I, clumping around all week
in this heavy black boot
replete with stays and Velcro straps
like Jack's noisy giant who lived at the top
of that unstable beanstalk -
though I only crashed down a frivolous shoe.
Then the doctor today,
as he put on the second week's cast,
described the new bone cells
as flying in V formation to mend the fracture;
drew pictures in the air with healing/artist fingers
"six on each side," he said, "like birds..."
He stopped in mid-sentence;
shook his head at the wonder of it.
"It's funny how nature works" he said.
~ Linda Albert
left metatarsal bone could inspire poetry?
Not I, clumping around all week
in this heavy black boot
replete with stays and Velcro straps
like Jack's noisy giant who lived at the top
of that unstable beanstalk -
though I only crashed down a frivolous shoe.
Then the doctor today,
as he put on the second week's cast,
described the new bone cells
as flying in V formation to mend the fracture;
drew pictures in the air with healing/artist fingers
"six on each side," he said, "like birds..."
He stopped in mid-sentence;
shook his head at the wonder of it.
"It's funny how nature works" he said.
~ Linda Albert
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