Today I learned if you break your ankle you can still walk on it.
Your body will take months to heal, but you won’t know it.
Your body does not cease to function
despite the fact that part of you has broken.
I thought the body was fragile but often
a fracture disguises itself as a strain. Stranger, we haven’t talked
in quite a while. I miss you more than I care to admit.
Let me reintroduce myself. I am the postage stamp girl,
who only started sending letters again yesterday.
I am the spearmint gum girl, who you didn’t know in the summer.
If the swelling last for months, and in the end, it turns out to
not be broken, you’re supposed to go to physical therapy.
You stretch the pulled tendons, trying to mold
them back into shape, to fix where you rolled them out of place.
In all honesty, you confuse me. One minute
you are so formal, all social cues and social norms.
At other times, in other minutes, you are
something different. That different thing softer and some how
both more shy and more confident.
This was not supposed to be about you, but I
can’t avoid the fact that you’ve worried me
lately. Worried me more than my potentially
broken ankle. Maybe you’re just tired, it’s that
time of year. Lord knows, I’m exhausted.
I’ve always been too stubborn to admit when
I’ve hurt myself. I say the broken parts are just a little
dented. I wish I could give you my confidence.
It might be false, but maybe it’d do you some
good. You are not an object of my pity,
I am quite sure you are fine on your own.
And yet, I want to show you that I care and so I tripped
head on into and not only knocked you over but scared you off.
Note to self: Mind the steps. With a hurt ankle and a magpie
for a heart, it’s dangerous to go walking into other people’s lives.