Amputating a Wooden Leg*

I told them,
I tried to reason with them
I said look
I've had it for years,
This leg,
It's made of
Cedar
(The best wood),
It's not my
Flesh and blood
And it doesn't rot,
We've hobbled together,
Gingerly,
For a lifetime.



They wouldn't listen.
In their white coats
And thick glasses,
Like white googly-eyed
Birds
Gathered above me,
They fluttered
And flapped,
Consulted
And whispered,
Pinched
And squeezed,
Knocked and wondered
At the lack of reflex.



No one heard
My cries of protest
When they diagnosed
My wooden leg
With gangrene
And prescribed
Immediate amputation.
They asked
If I could please
Be still,
It won't take a moment,
And not to worry,
Modern technology
Offers splendid
Artificial limbs.



* A salute to Kazuo Ishiguro