the tractor-mower hits a stump on the slope and
flips in a second. thrown off, earphones ripped from
the ipod when sergio is between mas que na and da.
then an adrenalin-fuelled leap to avoid
being crushed between tractor and post
and trailing fingers go thump in the blades.
when the eyes see the end of the finger hanging,
a flap of mincemeat, a second thump of the heart –
orchestral stab in a horror movie soundtrack.
the other hand squeezes
mashed flesh to stem the flow.
the drive to flinders medical centre, cold sweat
dripping into eyes, blood dripping on gumboots,
willing myself to breathe slowly. hot needle pain.
triage, grass-clippings on the e.r. floor,
calming pulse, x-rays. the matter-of-fact
egyptian surgeon with french accent.
my eyes clamp shut as he works
for almost an hour reconnecting
nerves, tissues and finally skin.
later i watch him fascinated as he
reconstructs the end of my ring finger,
a busted raw sausage held together
with fine blue thread.
© rob walker.
(first published in Australian Poetry Members Anthology Metabolism
ISBN: 978-0-9871-7650-9 March, 2012)