Full Weight

He caught me at the pharmacy—full fall,

both arms, my whole and graceless weight,

and didn't wince or say a word at all.

Just held. The cold was doing what cold does. Late

afternoon in January, salt-grit

loud under us, and then he let me go.

Careful, he said. I thanked him. That was it.

Two strangers on a sidewalk in the snow.

I drove home thinking of the other times—

the arms that caught me and then made a note,

the subtle math, the quiet, careful signs

that weight was something I should feel remote

about. Apologize for. Keep contained.

He didn't know my name. He just sustained.