20160811 (head trauma 1)

I didn't want to work but I didn't want to be in the Emergency Department either.

Today was so hellishly hot and humid

I decided against rearranging wood 

By sizes in my garage and against

Any exposure to the sun. So I began

Packaging the art for the jaunt west:

Jean’s stitcheries (which have not 

Been displayed since 2003 when

I sold the Lee Road house), the 

Many framed photographs of Andy,

Majida, and the girls (which arrived

Every six months but only the

Latest ever saw a wall), Nat’s

Framed poster of the Tevatron 

Collider at Fermilab (where he 

Worked one summer from

Carnegie Mellon), a poster of 

A scene from Cape Breton that

Jean loved, and a watercolor

Of a field full of rusted radiators

Dinah gave me as appreciation

For helping her rebuild the floor

Of her loft at Brickbottom in

Somerville MA. I’m not sure 

I’ll have enough wall space

But they deserve a proper 

Display before I exit this vale

Of tears. And I was having 

Success placing them in boxes

With styrofoam or bubblewrap

To protect them during the bumps

And jostles I expect along the way.

One box held almost all the small

Frames. The next held the mid-size

Square formats with space for a

Chinese checker board with

Marbles, and the kid’s original

Spirograph with which they played

For hours using up all manner of 

Old color ball points and reams

Of computer printouts (blank on

The back side). I realized I had a 

Task to complete in the basement

And was backing out the walkout

Door when I slipped on one of 

The three uneven stairs leading

Out to the patio, crashed my 

Behind into the ground, kept

Rolling to crack my crock against

The unforgiving flagstone. Didn’t

Lose consciousness as I witnessed

A tirade of appellations to the 

Great god of such embarrassing

And painful episodes, “O fecal 

Matter, O merd [French], O fecal 

Matter.” The hurt took my mind

Off the fact that the rollover

Had pitched my reading glasses

From my neck. Before I rose

I felt the right of my cranium

Just to detect whether I had 

Flattened that side and that’s

When I saw the blood—as if I

Had dipped my hand in red paint.

Getting up to wash the wound in

The basement sinks, I noticed I

Was leaving a trail of red droplets

As if I were in a forensic flashback.

Washed the wound down with the

Sink hose and cold water, took a

Beach towel for a bandage, gathered

The pets into the house, since I 

Felt it was bad enough to visit

Lutheran’s nearby ER. Two men

Approached me from the middle 

Of the street, taken aback by the 

Blood coagulating on my cheek,

Asked if I needed help. “Yeah,

Could you drive me to the

ER on Vestry? (I wasn’t at all

Sure I should walk or try to drive.)

I gave them the old line about “the

Kindness of strangers,” which they

Didn’t get. I tried not to get 

Blood on their car—“Forget it.

It’s a rental.” In transport I helped

Them locate someone who could

Help them about the Masonic

Temple. I gave them my number

And walked into the ER my head

Wrapped clumsily like a turban

Coming undone, my hands and

Face splattered with blood. 

c. J.S.Manista, 2016