DESCEND

Immobile,

leg encased in plaster,

climb the 30 steps,

ascend to comfort

and sanctuary.

No time to think or talk,

no time to write

with too much time.

Two months of tv

movies and dinners,

old books read again.

Until the time came,

when the leg awoke,

became a thousand tiny living creatures,

a paper knife and meat skewer

to fight the nibbling hordes.

Time came to descend,

to free the agitated limb

but how can I liberate

my mind

to write again?