Made for one another in a very literal sense.
Skirting precariously, yet dextrously,
o'er the control pads of our youth:
Master System, SNES, N64, Dreamcast, GameCube.
What else does your left thumb tip do?
It's difficult to articulate
yet the sense of loss is overwhelming.
You don't know what you've got
til it's in the compost bin.
"Slice these butternut squash cubes into smaller cubes!"
Headache-stricken, bleary-eyed, but I obliged. Or tried.
Chop. Chop. Chop. CHOP.
The last two millimetres, gone forever.
A rapidly whitening tip, shorn, smote, stunned into silence.
One moment: part of a hungover whole.
The next: on a chopping board, alone among squash cubes.
And after that: discarded without ceremony,
dispatched to the green bin in the sky (under the sink)
Losing the end of your thumb, the very end,
is a deep, teeth-gnashingly physical metaphor
for something or other.
But it's hard to say exactly what
when you're less than 100%.
 |
| May 7, 1983 - March 1, 2015 |
