Ode to the Rotator Cuff

The body is a leaky vessel
When the rotator cuff is torn
It lists to one side
And the oars are powerless
To steer the boat

Its compass hovers with uncertain range
Directionless and unfamiliar with the sea
Its hull dashed against the wild waves
Its yard arm flapping helplessly in the wind

Ted Goodell
November 2017

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