A shower, that simple daily thing we do
turned into agony for me today.
When stepping out, something went west and threw
me when I headed east. The sun turned gray,
I felt the stab wound searing through, and froze.
Small movements silenced my whole repertoire
and all my poetry turned into prose.
To stand from sitting down elicits war
among my muscles. I’m the battleground.
Their white-hot swords and sabers slit along
my comfort lines, and comfort now has drowned.
No longer do I feel in charge or strong
because ice, pain pills, elevation make
up healing. With my doctor’s rules I will
comply. I’m thankful that it did not break,
but I know for awhile I must lie still.