Bluely, the world emerges: a story of doctors and patients.
Doctors fall down, patients get up; the way of the world.
Humpty Dumpty had a thriving company till that morning
when his train (meaning ticker) went off track and splashed
him sideways, stellar: a juggled man, a not-like-an-egg sort
of thing. In the borderless wards, they built him back (but never
prepared him for his apple-face.) Afterwards, half-cracked,
he heads for home. Followed by no sheriff, wanted by no man,
he gathers leaves of maple and oak, twirls them around in his
hands. Though they’d never grow back, he was glad to watch
them fly into groups in the air. Collections of serrated edges,
such winded eternities. Humpty Dumpty hasn’t been told
where to hide; he rambles past old buildings, yards, a garage.
One gold earring appears on the veranda; stays, shining madly,
till noon. Blinded by its imagined owner, he shuffles indoors
where cakes, candles, and marigolds await him, silver-eyed.
