Curb Swerve

Stepped wrong off the curb,

just a quick dip, a misread step,

and for a beat, the ghost of it,

that old pain, the one that kept

me off my feet.

My right ankle, scarred

a little, right where the bone

just out, a raised line, hard

to see unless you know it's there.

A secret flaw, all my own.

It doesn't hurt, not really,

not like that day, the sudden twist,

the ground coming up to meet

my clumsy foot, a silent fist.

Just a flicker, a small, cold heat.

It reminds me I'm still just bone

and muscle, skin that stretches thin.

One wrong move and it's alone

again, this body, falling in.

A quick catch, then I'm gone.