Structural Integrity

One curb was higher than it looked.

A wet pop, like a green stick breaking

under the weight of the groceries.

The milk hit the pavement first.

Now I’m sitting on the edge of the tub

with a bag of frozen peas

molded over the heat of the bone.

A cold, plastic penance.

Everything depends on this hinge.

One inch of tendon decides

if I get to walk to the store

or if I’m just another thing

stuck here waiting for the ice to melt.