Jan 2013
Four messages on my phone, his is the last
"You're more difficult to get a hold of than I am, see you at work."
Rejection assumed, blow her off, see her at the copy machine
I call, already feeling like I'm invading his space, since he's said
see you at work and that's a week away
But he answers and it turns out he is injured from mud football
Sitting there, in pain, wondering if he's bleeding internally
An Emergency room down the street. He'll tough it out.
My X. Rugby. He scored and exploded a part of his spine in his neck
but we went to three bars that night and he refused to go to the ER
which was just down the street.
I woke up alone, he came back floating on meds, an X-ray in tow, asking for warm things
I found an electric neck wrap, then
he was plastered onto the floor
fast asleep, neck wrap on high, the cord stretched taught across the living room.
Never fully recovered. His muscular arms, the right one, withered away.
One day I gasped in internal horror as I saw it, smooth, looking more like mine
extending out from the now loose fabric ring of a sleeve of a polo shirt
His left arm now the muscular one, filling out the shirt on the other side
It was sickly, and unattractive, and I lost some faith him that moment, and felt guilty
and his pain, it never fully left him
When we divorced he blamed me for not stopping him
from playing Rugby that day.
We had to divorce, or I was going to end up like his right arm
I tell this new one--go to the ER.
So he decides to. Why does he need a woman to tell
him to make sure he is not bleeding internally?
"it hurts, it usually doesn't" stating the obvious
"I'll take some magazines" he says, now showing a bit of initiative
Sure, I think, make sure to take some ****, to pass the time and take away the pain
And that's all there is, no time for conversation
Except when I talk he likes it, but then has to go real quick
How many men have died without a woman to tell them to get help?
Same old...how to just let it go
How to not get wrapped up?
How not to care, but just eye him
as an object d'art, noticing his features
a reporter, taking in his personality
But resisting the urge to dive in
Leave it hazy, just walk away
it's not worth it, at least not yet
"You're more difficult to get a hold of than I am, see you at work."
Rejection assumed, blow her off, see her at the copy machine
I call, already feeling like I'm invading his space, since he's said
see you at work and that's a week away
But he answers and it turns out he is injured from mud football
Sitting there, in pain, wondering if he's bleeding internally
An Emergency room down the street. He'll tough it out.
My X. Rugby. He scored and exploded a part of his spine in his neck
but we went to three bars that night and he refused to go to the ER
which was just down the street.
I woke up alone, he came back floating on meds, an X-ray in tow, asking for warm things
I found an electric neck wrap, then
he was plastered onto the floor
fast asleep, neck wrap on high, the cord stretched taught across the living room.
Never fully recovered. His muscular arms, the right one, withered away.
One day I gasped in internal horror as I saw it, smooth, looking more like mine
extending out from the now loose fabric ring of a sleeve of a polo shirt
His left arm now the muscular one, filling out the shirt on the other side
It was sickly, and unattractive, and I lost some faith him that moment, and felt guilty
and his pain, it never fully left him
When we divorced he blamed me for not stopping him
from playing Rugby that day.
We had to divorce, or I was going to end up like his right arm
I tell this new one--go to the ER.
So he decides to. Why does he need a woman to tell
him to make sure he is not bleeding internally?
"it hurts, it usually doesn't" stating the obvious
"I'll take some magazines" he says, now showing a bit of initiative
Sure, I think, make sure to take some ****, to pass the time and take away the pain
And that's all there is, no time for conversation
Except when I talk he likes it, but then has to go real quick
How many men have died without a woman to tell them to get help?
Same old...how to just let it go
How to not get wrapped up?
How not to care, but just eye him
as an object d'art, noticing his features
a reporter, taking in his personality
But resisting the urge to dive in
Leave it hazy, just walk away
it's not worth it, at least not yet
