A Broken Foot

A broken foot will shoot you

With lightning fractures in bone,

Until your only sky is the blue

Of a dreary room of stone.

 

The leg that woke to memory

Of its first failing will give

All its debts to a brother free,

Bound to new strength conceive.

 

The bazaars will craft of you

A doddering six-foot circus tent,

Make of every unblemished hue

The contrast you never intend.

 

Fair-weather, foul-weather friends

Will make campfire at your bed,

Their laughter shall slyly lend

Wet color to every frayed thread.

 

Watch hot seconds become lame,

Limp away cold noons on a dry race,

Every deed will strike its name,

And show you its naked face.