by Gideon Burton
The Epsom salts assault my toe with heat,
the tender inflammation mutely screams
around my swollen toe. And worse, it seems
I'll never walk again, not with these feet.
Not ever normally and far less fleet.
(My poetry has had much better themes,
but love and such must wait within my dreams,
as I sit here in pain upon my seat.)
Some years ago I slipped and broke my toe.
I hobbled, limped and sobbed for countless weeks.
I paid my toe-pain dues, I learned my lesson.
How careless of me letting that nail grow,
as now the costly doctor I must seek!
With baby steps I'll walk off my depression.
Photo: flickr - Brother O'Mara