The Creak

I drop into the chair and hear it crack.

Twelve hours standing has turned my back

into a map of small aches—

left shoulder blade tight as a knot,

the base of my spine humming

like it's been holding its breath all day.

My shoulder blades rest against the wood.

They don't relax.

They just stop trying.

There's a sound my body makes now,

a sound like settling,

like something giving up and calling it rest.