my apartment needs more culture

by M. F. Sullivan

the first night we visited
i stepped on a splinter
while walking to the car
and half-limped back,
hiding a wince.

once the birds were chirping
when i was finally alone
and undressed for bed
it had worked itself further

until now, a week later,
it's part of my foot,
and i keep my weight on my heel.

what small price,
a little arrow,
for a piece of art
to liven up the home.