These things I ponder, lying in bed
watching the brash transition of spring
as it passes across the sky, wind-lashing trees:
I am sore and raw.
The left side of my face has dropped
(as I was warned but, like a vain princess in a fairy tale,
a fold of skin rests above the eyebrow,
waiting until the nerve-endings
restore themselves with enough perk
to lift everything back up to normal.
Although, there was the disclaimer,
that it could remain the same. Permanently.
The left jaw juts out; bone at odd angles.
I can’t help but think
I look like Sloth from The Goonies.
I’m waiting for the swelling to go down;
but I’ve never been a patient patient.