Falling
I am forgetting
already. Barely a month
and only the occasional
twinge recalls what used to be:
the worry and pain and interrupted
sleep, a life on pause,
disrupted plans, dependence.
Unable to carry or open or twist
or walk or fasten, put on or take off
anything.
A single opposable thumb.
A single functional wrist.
A single functional leg to stand on,
the other being
undependable except for pain.
Pain is reliable, I found,
mornings when I weighed pain
against the benefits of standing erect,
evenings when I debated
strategies for climbing into bed--
gone now. Gone
except the infinitesimal ache,
the pinpoint of memory,
the glimpse of the future.
I’m getting old.
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