Spine on Edge

I shifted wrong,

a dull snap rolled down vertebrae,

a sudden crack under skin’s thin curtain.

Pain shot sharp, cold as broken glass.

Bent slightly forward,

a shadowed curve beneath frail flesh,

spine stiff, taut like wires stretched too far,

unyielding and too much like a secret.

Every breath shallow,

something brittle alive in the hollow,

a stubborn ache threading through bone,

tense as the silence between broken ribs.

I carry the weight of my own frame,

a crooked column shaken,

holding fragile pieces

that tremble but do not fall.