The Life's Work

When you go back and look at
it all, primarily, you're struck by
the lack, which seems impossible
yet there it sits.
And it just sits there. Not even
smoking or munching a
bagel. Sometimes what I see
is my amputee stub,
but it's like I never see the severed limb.
Except occasionally, when all I see is severed limbs,
stretched across the great plains. But mostly,
there's just this space that doesn't
make any sense. Even if you asked
me lots of questions, you'd find
my unhelpful. Unhelpful is
kinda a signature of this lack.
It's like unhelpful is attached
to the wooden leg of this thing. In a way, I want
to scream, "I'm no wrestler!" On the other
hand, I enjoy the attention.