What the Spine Knows

I got home and reached up high

for the box. My spine

said no—not today,

not in this way.

I'd been standing all day.

The body won't say

it's tired, it just aches.

It just breaks

a little more

with every chore.

I dropped my arm.

The cereal stayed.

No need for alarm,

just the ache I'd made.

This is what the spine

knows that you don't:

every hour is a line

in a ledger. You won't

see it written,

but it's there,

compressed and smitten

with the weight you bear.

By evening you're done.

By evening you're scored.

The day's long run

is written and stored

in the vertebrae.

In the lower back.

In the way

your body won't slack.

I found something lower.

Something that didn't cost

more than I could offer.

But the spine knows the cost.