After the first week of silence and darkness
he noticed how the crescent cuticles on his thumbs
were so much bigger than the ones on his fingers;
how, like so much else, he had taken his fingers
for granted. He considered the mutability of his
skin, its myriad cells with their specialist functions,
the expanse across his back and chest, the protection
and pleasure it had afforded him. He admired the elasticity
of the scrotum, the way its shape and texture shifted
with the weather. He reflected on the utility of each toe,
how their gradation had balanced and steadied him.
He wondered at his lymphatic and nervous systems,
gave thanks to each bone and red organ. He told every cell
how they were adored, how much he would miss them.
First published on Buzzwords poetry website . Thanks to Penelope Shuttle