I stood on four straight legs , offered my seat. Unobtrusive, but always noticed. Had they not brought in the new dog I’d still be there. Locked me up with the lonely dog when they left. First he pulled down the plastic tablecloth, then he tore up the calico sofa. Then he remembered my vinyl seat. Angry, he bit into me, shredded my seat, pulled out my foam. They came home, kept the dog, threw me out. I stood in the cold and drizzle for two days. A waiting seed saw my leg, germinated and quickly climbed up. Happy now.

One Leg

Left jeans leg ironed flat, held up by nappy pins. No bulge below hip. DHL shoulder bag, yellow cap on head. Denim jacketed he walks blue socked, on one sandal and two crutches wood and rubber tipped. Gauze cloth pads under arm-pits . Comfortable. Not a challenge. Not fragile. Mobile. Makes steady pace. Chiselled face calm. No amputation pain lingers. Branches smile, brave grass whisper underfoot. No curious eyes, he’s known in these parts. Cleaning lady, “Hey, jo san.” He nods. With sturdy square shoulders he approaches apartment block. Woman, with two shopping bags, rushes, opens glass door. He disappears.