13 January 2014

My puffy, stiff and swollen hot fingers,
On a rough day start losing their figure.
By 3 p.m. they won’t straighten or bend,
It’s not just me these fingers offend.

While clocking in and clocking out,
I’m silently screaming “ouch”.
The hand-scanner is programed to know my ‘old’ hand,
But this shape-shifter me it don’t understand.

I just keep scanning until I’m in tears,
‘For someone to see this’ is what I fear.
I need just one hand to squish all the way,
This machine does not like me, or my RA.

I do not like it either.
the end.
©