
After the Stroke by Dale Champlin
The only thing dead is my right arm—limp as a stunned mackerel washed up by the surf.I can see the fish is still attached to my shoulder.How weird is that? I can’t grasp the word for stroke. Nothing makes sense. I forget about breakfast,forget I should be hungry but don’t forgetto apply lipstick and sunblock. I’m not close to dead.Not even dying. In the ambulance, … Continue reading After the Stroke by Dale Champlin