Poem

The Hernia

How did I get it doc, they always ask.

What did I do wrong?

Hard to know I always say.

Maybe you coughed.

That log you lifted.
Blame the foreman, blame your father.

More likely it wasn't your fault.

The ultimate etiology remains in ambiguity

Because it really isn’t anything at all.

It’s just a hole, a gap in your continuity,

An absence that becomes a weakness

Ripe for attack.

Your empty spaces always get filled

Some how, some way.

Sometimes with the things we don’t need,

The things that can hurt.

11/16/19