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My left knee and me
the memory of my birthing
like
the memory of my dying
was
is/
and
will/
forever
be lost
to me/
it was thus
a surprise/
not at all pleasant
but still
a surprise/
that as i tiptoed silently
last week/
from quinquagenary
to sexagenary/
the memory of my left knee’s being
made itself quite plain to me/
in lieu
of cogito/ ergo sum
i am thinking/ therefore i exist
as rené would have it/
my knee has twisted
this Cartesian syllogism
awry/
i am aching/ therefore you are/
the dogma of thinking being/
mutating/ transforming/
to the tenet of paining existing/
and so as i amble through
this decade sans nine days
with a limp/ i could lose/
i shall miss/ the company/
the companionship/
of dear friend/ of beloved kin/
but/
i can look forward/ to
a certain constancy/
that only death could cleave apart
my aching left knee and me//
poem
by
Renato Mascardo
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