After I listened to my voice mail
I just about sliced off the end of my thumb.
I was cutting up a chayote squash for lunch.
I stood then in the bathroom, tasting blood,
damaged appendage hard against the roof of my mouth,
the edges of my vision darkening, legs trembling.
It was a small wound. The scar (a white C now)
is still rubbery, insensitive.
forward anywhere lines