Of the way they met each other

Of the warmth of muscle, of the pull

of tendons, of being held steady.

Of their strength and purpose.

They worked,

mostly together, mechanically

without thought, I gave them

so little thought.  Let them shape me

And move me, let them hold

Me together.  Turns out its ten

I broke.  Three they didn’t bother

To tell me about, at the time

Of the accident—they would heal

Along with the rest of them.

I am grateful for that. The healing

And the not knowing.  There was, is

Enough to think about already.

I watch people walking their dogs.

I watch people waiting for the bus.

I watch people shovel snow.

I watch people run.  I watch.

Right after the accident, I dreamed

I was walking.  That was when I couldn’t

Leave the bed.  Now I roll

Through these four rooms,

Turning and returning.

Never able to get that far away

From myself. So I make a world

out of a handful of sunlight,

paint and brushes, thoughts

of you, and these words.

jks, January 2025