Will he walk?
Do we love a cripple?
It was an overturned train. Car crushing me, lying between life and unknown. Nancy wishes it was her. Not my fault. Words wavering.
Once I could run. From home to movies, under Nancy’s smile, Mother’s worries. I could have been a writer flitting across the world, dancer, pirouetting across stages.
If I recover, I’ll move slower, Mother, Nancy withdrawing more.
I have to make it across the room.