I Stabbed Myself with a Fork Today

It was an accident.

A fumble.

At brunch.

In a fancy hotel.

The fork in question

began to fall.

I reached to grab the handle

as it spun in the air.

The prongs bit into my palm.

I held up my left hand

staring in disbelief,

staring at the double-line scratches when

blood slipped out between the two.

I laid down the offending utensil,

finally feeling the sting.

Then I remembered.

So I picked up that fork

and ignored the pain.

After all,

I had a made-to-order

mushroom and cheddar omelette to eat