The hinge

Bent to tie a loose shoe, left side.

My right knee snapped, a low, dry crunch.

Like gravel shifting, or old wood.

It makes a noise like that sometimes now,

just a small, internal sound.

No pain, not really. Just the sound.

Like something giving way, or rusted,

under the skin, where the scar

from that fall, years ago, still shows

its faint, white line.

The body, keeping count.