When I was five, my sister Lorraine slammed
my right hand in the bathroom door, causing
most of my little finger to sever, save for
a thin slip of skin. I was wearing a green dress
which tied in back, and it was untied.
I remember a single shoe, but that might
be invented after many repeated recalls
of the incident. And then there was the
examining table at Renton Hospital, my mother
and father beside me. That's the extent
of the memory. The little finger on my right
hand sticks slightly out, and the joint tends
to get stuck when bending, but it's good
to still have an entire finger.
Karsten, a 23-year-old glass artist who
puts in a few days a week slogging glass
at the same place of employment as me,
said today that he suffered a fractured skull
at the tender age of eight days: he fell off
a clothes dryer. His mother was so completely
traumatized by this event that she lost all
her pregnancy-weight in a matter of days.