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My shoulder is now stuck solid. The humerus will only move at the expense of the clavicle, and the scapula is dragged, complaining, along with it. April 3rd is the date when the scapula will be relieved, when a wrenching and the knife will tear open a joint that has slowly lost its ‘voice’, growing unable to articulate just as I have become unwilling to articulate the pain – only the inconvenience.

Winter is dying as spring thaws its bones.

The surgeon says it will never happen again.

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