Monthly Archives: November 2018

Knees (Bodymap, 2)

The melting sun inserts a butter knife

into chill layered clouds, pries them apart,

spilling light into once subtle windows,

dropping globes of yellow to float on waves

and in isolated puddles. Insert

broken poem fragments into my knee joints.

“Strange adventure,” to the left, and again,

“Strange adventure,” to the right. Off to the

summerlands. Away to the ice. They used

to be twins, but life has beat them up in

different ways, and they wear their nobbled scars

distinctly. Is that why they ache? Swelling

with bruises and shivering with questions.

The hinge of words swings back and forth, creaking,

unable to decide what direction

they should take. My knees argue, unable

to agree on where we’re going. They want

to take a vote, but it’s just them, the two

of them. They aren’t listening to me, or

anyone else. How can I walk, half snow,

half heat? Freezing and melting, refreezing,

melting. My knee buckles, bending wrong. What

would it mean to bend right? Would it feel strange?