The trees are a bit different today.
Only slightly, but it’s there.
One less shred of bark.
A whisper of height more.
In the corner of our mind
we store the newness of change.
But what for? Are we waiting
for our reflection to speak.
And who’s newness is this.

-M. Taggart

can’t reach my head #poem

used heavy cream
in my coffee this morning
wasn’t very good
a lot like my arm right now
not very good
I’m an easy going broken person
so I grabbed another cup of coffee
this time I used milk
much better
and soon enough
the arm will be too
at least I can feel my tendon
sliding back and forth now

-M. Taggart

post surgery

I’m alive!

I came out of that surgery like a sling shot! Wide awake and wanting all the crackers they could bring me. “Would you like water or ginger ale?”

“Both.” I sat up and was ready to run. I could have easily driven home. Going under isn’t always fun. Thoughts creep in. Are these the last faces I’ll see? I don’t want to leave my family over an arm. Alone. Covid regulations.

They gave me a block in my neck which has paralyzed my left arm. I feel like Wesley in The Princess Bride. I can wiggle my fingers.

This is fun though! I enjoy new scars and love new mornings.


Cheers #poem

“And no alchohol for twenty four hours before your surgery.”

I’m pretty sure she’s a grandmother

Sounds like a good one

She should know we don’t listen

I wrote with a blue pen
the drop off and pick up

Provided I wake up

“Matt! Stop messing with me.
What time is your surgery!”

I walked away

It was a good story
if she hadn’t rushed it

I’ll be dropped off

They’ll cut into me

And I’ll walk out
into this Covid World

It’s time for another beer
I have surgery tomorrow

-M. Taggart