The Bone

I twisted it slightly at work.

A misstep. The pain didn't lurk—

it came back exactly

the way it came back, precisely

as before. That sharp

feeling. The way it can warp

the ankle back to the break.

My body didn't hesitate or shake—

it knew exactly what to do,

knew the old path back through

the bone. The small ridge

protruding. The bridge

between intact and broken.

Never before had I spoken

about how much this ankle

reminds me. The rankle

of old injury. How

the body keeps score now,

how much I'll carry

this break. How I'll marry

myself to the limp forever.