by Kelly R. Samuels
The first break broke something
inside, and not the bone, though
the bone, yes—the radial that aided
with pivoting. Something else.
Something that was companion
to ease, with being able to sit and read
and not feel, suddenly, as if all
was not well. There were fires
west and north, flooding far
east, and in a small room, a man
crying. But this was what others dismissed
as nonsense—unease that led to an ache
and pacing. I wondered if the plate
they had placed was cause
and if, now, this would be the norm.
As if nothing could be rectified.
As if nothing would, ever, offer relief.
Kelly R. Samuels is the author of the collection All the Time in the World (Kelsay Books) and two chapbooks: Words Some of Us Rarely Use and Zeena/Zenobia Speaks. She is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee with work appearing in The Massachusetts Review, RHINO, and The Pinch.
A-Minor 