Wednesday, 17 January 2018

Cut Finger

by Barbara Walker

This morning, I cut my finger
and not just a little bit.
I slammed that butcher knife down
and cut my finger 'til it split!

It all happened so very fast,
I couldn't believe my eyes
and Tom was working out back,
so, he didn't hear my cries.

I didn't want to stare at it,
I didn't want to see the wound.
I didn't want to face the fact,
I just might need an emergency room.

I grabbed a towel, wrapped my finger
and pressed down very hard,
then, I said a few choice words;
after all, I am a bard.

I found the gauze in the junk drawer,
I found the medical tape, too.
My finger looked like a mummy,
by the time that I was through.

Later, Tom asked if it needed stitches.
Okay, I admit it, I told a few lies,
but, if I ever take this bandage off,
I'm hoping for a good surprise!

Later, I had a massive hot flash,
been getting them for years.
This one was so intense,
I cried big crocodile tears.

I began to recover from that,
when my stomach began to ache.
Now, what is this from, I thought.
Hope it's not dinner from last night's plate.

I ran to the bathroom.
I was in there quite a while,
but, that's just like me,
doing everything with style!

I think I'd better lay low now,
so, do you know what I'm going to do?
I'm going back to bed
and hide under the covers, too!

* * * * *

Barbara Walker has had several short stories published in anthologies and her poems published in various magazines. She loves to watch the beautiful sunsets from her comfy chair on her patio of her new hometown by a lake in Arizona.

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