7200
August thirteenth nineteen hundred and ninety nine
forever etched in the annals of my personal infamy
as one still sending hair raising shivers down my spine
which following unpleasant details occurred on a street
that branched off kind of like a fork tine
adjacent to one named woodbine.
prior to the following awful events
that unfolded aforementioned day
somewhat solemn and gray
i did not consider myself unduly superstitious
nor prone to bouts of triskaidekaphobia no how no way.
yet that particular Friday the thirteenth baptized me
in the bloody waters of superstition unequivocally
whence upon waking said particular morning
the search for funereal garb found me
burrowing into a small closet
while bending on one knee, and nonchalantly rummaging
for suitable article of clothing to wear
per the wake of William Zison (the octogenarian father in law)
an unbeknownst ill fate lurked just seconds away
ready to cap cha an innocent prey
as any unseen observer would agree.
hands rifled and rustled thru various and sundry
miscellaneous items in one or another box
mostly clothing and other apparel draped in coat hangers
plus a precariously perched heavy tin of yarn heavy as rocks
began to teeter from top ledge,
than made a slow inexorable descent
in direct path of thy crown containing valued mental stocks.
the topmost part of thine skull
felt impact of sharp metallic rim
that left an indentation in soft part of scalp –
more’n an abrasive skim
and bent circular shape of contrivance filled to the hilt
one law of physics pertaining to falling object (taught to me)
acquires greater mass accelerating with velocity and vim.
upon reflexively yet tentatively touching raw sore spot
fingertips revealed presence of warm liquid
soon coagulating into a pulpy gordian knot
from sharp lipped impact registering nausea
and vertigo quite a lot
hence sewing crafts managed to stitch
a tattooed laceration forming a bloody clot.
body writhed with physical torment
as if being only partially alive
whereby waves of blacking or passing out found me swooning
ready to take a swan dive
nonetheless from schwenksville
to penn valley, I did (by divine grace) safely drive
whence family members and relatives
once destination reached, the motley crue
began organized car pool arrangements
per heading off to the cemetery, which caravan formation
similar to a human bee hive, yours truly declined to go
communicating persistent distress from mishap
i bowed wowed out, stayed home
and kept company with a dog (purportedly man’s best friend)
(said pet belonging to a friend of eldest sister in law),
whose open palmed overtures of mine did not jive.
an impulse found fingers reaching out
to stroke this unfamiliar animal
supposedly man’s best friend
only to find sharp teeth from canine jaw
clamped down hard on hand,
which second bodily injury, i did immediately tend
while bolts of white hot pain
shot thru lower extremity of palm
radiated upward through forearm into shoulder did wend.
