3.17.2010

Pulmonary Relapse

I finger the pink gouge
on the bridge of my nose
where the beer bottle broke bone
five years ago this month
and remember what the doctor told
an inebriated version of myself
prior to sewing me up:

"Nothing is ever as strong again
after it's been broken."

My limited knowledge of anatomy
is subpoenaed from my baffled memory
and I agree across the board
with that faceless man with the needle.

The sound of water spinning
down the sink drain
sucks me back out of the mirror
and I finish shaving the neck line of my beard.

Sleep won't come easily tonight.
The world's too sad a place.
You don't need a string tied to your finger
to keep that one in mind.

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