My yanked-out shoulder needs this sling
For a minimum of three weeks:
And patience never has been my big thing.
Right-handed, right hand gone,
What two hands did without a thought
I must learn again with one;
Prising plug from wall enlist
The service of auxiliaries,
A foot, a wrist.
I empty bladder seated,
Inch my socks on, toe by toe,
By one task only, shoe-laces, defeated.
But I'm in good spirits:
A challenge without choice like this
Inspires you to it,
I'm not in pain, I'm strapped in,
I've codeine for the long small hours
And at last I understand the one hand clapping.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem