"menisci" poems
The doctor tells me my results.
Three injuries in one.
I would need surgery.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I could no longer play the sports I loved.
Was this the end?
My ACL decided athletics had taken it's toll,
and my menisci was right along with it.
The bruised bone was a bonus though.
Was this the end?
Could I emotionally handle
the recovery?
The recovery of heartbreak from simple test results
The recovery from physical damage
The recovery of surgery that joined my main muscles back together again
The recovery of a new muscle, foreign to me
Will I ever be fully recovered?
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
I met gravity in the deep end. Saw that god is just
a stadium light casting for bacteria at the bottom of menisci.
When her hands held me under, I forgot my name.
Seven years later, the water remembered me. A force timed
and terrible dicing my skin, grinding my scalp into unsieved wine.
Three point eight billion years came and went, a single exhale.
One day the ocean will consume me. She’ll claim my eyes,
pick my bones. Then pluck what is left
and bury it under the weight of every raindrop.
I have heard her pacing the foot of my bed.
I have smelled myself on her breath.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
Volitional Cageling,
Lightling
Amber agony of in prisming
Show me a way, then
from the baseless lines
from my binding fears
through the blinding menisci of my tears
Take me a way
from this tangle of yield,
from irresolution,
dewhipped web of timid hesitation...
How does one escape from
"rationalessness" How does one escape
from this cocoon of "here"
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC