Difference
When I ripped
My ACL I wrote
With my last breath
Cynic quips
About despair and death—
A season lost to PT
At least:
Such was the hell
Hanging over me:
The glory of the rope
My probable synecdoche.
My wife, more practical
Than me,
In the same clinic,
And with the same knot
In her knee,
But inclined
To hope, simply
Had a stem cell shot,
And in the sunshine
Later on
Was completely fine.
May 9th, 1995
January 15th, 2020
Explanation
I don’t think I would have written this poem or chosen this subject had I been conscious. But it came to me in my sleep and I woke up and wrote it down.