the fall

The x-ray shows my spine is curved.

Turning to the right then smoothing back left,

As if carefully avoiding tripping over a cat

Or lightly stepping around a small puddle.

It’s sort of cute.

When did this happen?

Narrow stairs and the idea of a banister.

My old Bushwick basement apartment.

I slipped and fell a few times.

The first time I was drunk.

Karaoke interrupted with news of a flood,

Everything I owned soaked.

The backyard was a graveyard of paperbacks.

I peered down the stairs and the floor shimmered.

I stepped, then slipped.

My arms smacking the cheap wood, grabbing at nothing.

My heart in my throat.

I looked up at the broken sky and couldn’t tell

What were tears and what was rain.

Paint peeled off the walls,

Revealing layers of off-white.

The brittle bones of a house 

Built to be forgotten.

Would there be a bruise tomorrow?

He flips the switch and it’s gone.

I bend and try to feel 

where I went off-center.

As I pick up my things, I think of home.

Afternoons laying on the shore,

Waves lapping up my legs,

The cold water realer than anything else.

The sand would shape around me, 

a perfect fit and feeling.

I walk towards the train, and stop to remember

A time when falling didn’t seem so bad.