Calf Knot

I woke gasping,

a sharp snap of muscle

snagged like wire beneath skin.

Memory crawled up the leg:

that twist, the shout,

bare feet scrambling on wet grass.

The night dark and wide,

but my calf remembers the pull,

that tangle of pain before the limp.

Mind tried to erase

but the body holds tight,

its bruises folded like notes

never sent.

Now at dawn,

muscle cramps—a ghost speech

from a language I forgot

but can’t unlearn.