Day 713, June 15, 2022
even when we forget.
Like a distant lover,
a teasing bus stop taunt,
a few taut words uttered out of a moving car,
can feel it in the fingers,
in the hands,
where the ribs meet the spine,
deep in the hip.
I am reminded that I am clumsy
when I bruise my shin,
scrape my calf.
There are days when one
should be more careful.
I hear people whispering as I close my eyes.
Look, there is the clumsy man.
But I am only clumsy
because my body remembers what it is like
to stack a cord of wood.
My body remembers it has arms like lobster claws,
and for a few days afterwards
my hands feel like mittens.
I am tired today,
because my body remembers.
My eyes recall looking too long at the sun,
studying the tight grain of wood fibers,
counting freckles by candlelight,
that is why I can not see so well anymore.
And my ears,
they remember crickets,
like a field of fireflies,
A tired body is a body that remembers,
and reminds me better than I do,
that there are days that have passed
and so many reasons to reach out to say hello.