Crutches

“Getting in bed, I cuddled next to her good leg.”

Mason Williams 1969

Imperfection is such a burden

and it weighs me down more

with each passing year.  There

is no easing of bodily flaws, no

sudden sharpening of mental

acuity.  No, it all flows away,

                 away until every damn

                    part is bent or stooped

                        or atrophied or unresponsive…

A bum leg was just a curiosity

back when perfection was closer,

when puzzles could be solved

when all the parts had their part

memorized and on good days

life was a symphony of sorts

                 sorted out and possible

                    pleasurable, hopeful

                       full and fulsome and fun…

And tucked away in a closet

is a box of photos, wrinkled

and faded (a simile) showing

a girl with crutches, leg straight

out and cast encased, smiling

slyly while I clutch her arm, grinning

                    a grin both shy

                       and proud, comfortable

                          and very much in love…