Boys will be boys, baby.

For those of you who don't know, my friend T is missing part of his second toe on his left foot. This happened when he was mowing the lawn on a mission trip. I watched it happen and while we don't always talk a lot he's still one of my favorite people ever and at times we've been, dare i say, close. A while back I wrote a poem about this experience and this is that poem. It's hard to make "lawn mower" sound poetic.

You push the mower back and forth

Back and forth till-

Trauma

A gash in skin

A gush of blood

You run

Down the hill

"Call 911"

I stare and pray

I see a bone

She grabs my arm

I can't move

I can't look away

From you

The pain in your eyes

She turns me aside and I feel like she woke me up

I watch them take you

Cry and write

Phone calls are made

"There's been an accident"

We go to dinner

Without you

"Are you okay?"

I just nod and poke my food

I need to get out

I have to do something

Everyone's rehashing the detail

All day

"How did it happen?"

You've become a puzzle

You squeeze my hand, we hug, it's almost enough

We go home

Without you

I hear you screaming all night long