Poem: I am human

13 morning glories from furled buds (top right) to blooms (purple) to wilting (petals curling inwards.

 

motley-morning-glories-upside-border

I am human
I make mistakes.
Morning glory, evening shame.

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Index of injuries

Harbourside post wrapped in colourful knitting, with bird foot. Ferry sailing in the distance.
Harbourside post wrapped in colourful knitting, with bird foot. Ferry sailing in the distance.
Did someone break her leg?

age 7, concussion
from playing bullrush
age 17, cracked metatarsal
from dancing rock and roll
age 40: carpal tunnel syndrome
from typing on the fly
age 55: broken wrist
from roller blading
age 75: sore knee
from doing Zumba
age 78: sore knee
from walking on my knees.
Spot a pattern here?
“Mum,
you always go too far.”

Ankles

Adjustable desk top in plywood
Adjustable desk top made in New Zealand. Relevance to the poem—you decide!

We were taught
to cross our ankles
not our knees
when seated
for reasons
of aesthetics
and decorum.

A lesson lost
on all today
apart from
doctors
actors
royalty
and models.

Poem and pic by Rachel McAlpine CC BY 2.0. Now why did I choose that photo…