Sunday, 8 January 2012


Even a minor cut (slicing iceberg lettuce last night, hacked my thumb instead, blood on salad, had to throw some leaves away - my friends are not cannibals, after all) makes me think of how fragile we are, physically. We are just so easily harmed.


Kate said...

Shades of Sylvia Plath -

What a thrill --
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge

Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.

nmj said...

Sylvia really sums it up! Makes me nauseous reading, 'flap like a hat'. Wonderful.