Elusive Fool In Child's Pose

Sore thumb in the midst
the proverbial elephant which
cannot find a place to sit
its girth has nothing left to do but stand
in the corner, swishing its bushy tail
annoyance. Waiting for someone
to acknowledge its exsistance.
the gory thumb pulsates, it's tiny
capillaries burst blood clot galaxies
leaving their mark
stardust on the palm and index.
When the saw and hot iron come
To amputate I will be delighted
And I do not want reconstructive
surgery I think festering wounds
are rather romantic, keeps it more
truthful in the visceral rot.