Kinetic Memory

The vertigo just stopped.

I stood by the counter and shifted my weight,

left heel, then right,

pressing the arch of my foot

against the grain of the wood.

The floor didn't sway.

I wasn't a guest in my own legs anymore.

I watched the steam curl off the chipped mug

on the windowsill,

a white ghost thinning out into the light.

It’s a small thing,

having a skeleton that agrees to stay

where you put it.