Jim Ferris
ON METAL CRUTCHES
when I clack into a room all eyes shoot
to me –
can I tear up words themselves
(I tear up at the thought) – or only tear
the paper we trap words with –
I rescue the moment from
daily dullness, suddenly this tick
is precious, a tale of redemption from
corruption, from the base and feeble
humanity this broke and clacking
spectacle represents – most of
represent is resent, and I do
purify a complex and tainted world
for happy rubes who have not yet noticed
the slim iron proboscis that even now
sucks the sap out of our words –
tear
them up? But they are my playmates,
I love them too much –
 
leaving
a slight hollow yearning, a dip
in the road, driving in the rain
at night beats clacking on crutches, I don't
have to tell you that most of clacking
is lacking, my shadow passes quickly,
they scarcely notice when they shiver,
black ice
surprises the hollow road,
Judas had a job to do, as did Saul,
the doctors too – how can we see
what is not there –
except the saints and capitalists –
and so it stays empty, let's tear up
more words, gently, and stuff them there,
let's see if that helps at all
Jim Ferris: bats right, throws right, votes left. He is author of Facts of Life and The Hospital Poems, which Edward Hirsch selected as winner of the Main Street Rag Book Award
in 2004. His book Slouching Towards Guantanamo was published in 2011. Ferris, who holds a doctorate
in performance studies, has performed at the Kennedy Center and across the United States, Canada and Great Britain;
recent performance work includes the solo performance piece "Scars: A Love Story." Past president of the
Society for Disability Studies, he has received fellowship awards in poetry as well as creative nonfiction. His
writing has appeared in dozens of publications, ranging from the Georgia Review to Text &
Performance Quarterly, from the Michigan Quarterly Review to weekly newspapers. Ferris
holds the Ability Center Endowed Chair in Disability Studies at the University of Toledo.
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