The Broken Wrist!

Forewarned is forearmed they say
Friday the 13th - a bad day
I caught my foot in errant cable
Lost my balance; was unable
To catch onto the table’s edge
Thereby breaking off a wedge
Of right-hand wrist, the one I use
To pen my poems and amuse
My belovèd audience; Not fun
In terms of limbs I was struck dumb!

“Exquisite pain” my best friend said
I felt I’d be much better dead
Distressed and sobbing, off we went
To get my wrist repaired, un-bent
But Friday evening sees commuters
Blocking crossroads, honking scooters.
Our gallant driver stressed as well
Looked like a Stirling Moss from hell!
A morphine jab, and on the table
A three-pin job for straggling cable.

And have you thought how hard it is
To open tins, or cans of fizz
To put on bra or clean your teeth
Or dress oneself right – underneath?
Writing is beyond one’s means
And washing up – the stuff of dreams.
But on the bright side – there’s now time
To contemplate and that is fine.
I’m now convinced God thought it through
And decided one arm wouldn’t do!

(c) Poet in the woods 2015

Written in 2002