After Working in the ER for Twenty-Three Years by Steve Cushman

After Working in the ER for Twenty-Three Years

I will not climb a ladder to clean
leaf debris or hang Christmas lights.

I will not use a blender while drinking.
Fingers are precious, soft things even
when sliced down to the bone.

Will not shoot a gun in a dark room with padded walls
despite what the shooting instructor says.
Nor will I try car surfing or roof diving into a pool.
And hell no, I will not hold a lit firework
and watch the wick slither away to nothing.

There’s a million dangerous things out there.
Some you shake your head at and think,
but should you really have fallen asleep
on the train track or tried to stand up on your
motorcycle flying down I-40 at 90 MPH or held
that damn cherry bomb a second too long?

But you also have to be careful when stepping
out of the bathtub on an otherwise lovely Tuesday
or tripping over the dog, the rumpled corner of a throw rug.
Pulling weeds from the planted pot only to be bitten
by the copperhead.

All of it sending you hurtling toward the ER
where we’ll be waiting, smiling and saying,
with a calm voice: It’s going to be okay.
You’re going to be okay
Breathe, we’ll say, just breathe.

*

Steve Cushman is the author of three novels, including Portisville, winner of the 2004 Novello Literary Award. He has published two poetry chapbooks, and his first full-length collection, How Birds Fly, won the 2018 Lena Shull Book award. His latest collection, The Last Time, was published by Unicorn Press in 2023. Cushman lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, and works in the IT department at Cone Health.