Day 249

The surgeon is trying to put the boy’s leg back together.
Yesterday the boy was running, going to get a few vegetables
unexpectedly let in.  Today the boy’s femur
is exposed, bright white bone surrounded by blood.
His life from now on divided from here.  There is no
anesthesia, but he says to the surgeon, Go ahead.
Save my leg.  Please save it. And the young surgeon —
whose teachers have been killed, whose supervisors
have been tortured, killed — does what he can, gives the boy
a sponge to press between his teeth when the pain
is unbearable.  Puts the boy’s leg back together.
It will be scarred.  It may get infected.  It may be
shorter than the other leg, but it will be whole,
it will be a leg the boy can walk on.  Even run.