A Broken Walker
It hasn’t always been
or even maybe,
the starless
crowding
mercuric montage of age –
teased out debris.
Pummeled,
spoken for,
a kind of courage confused with garbage,
excoriated,
cursed as cure
while being maintained.
Not to be sought out,
not tinkered with,
a latter day pitch and pray,
charades and no winners.
My walker broken.
My therapeutic therapies
continue.
It’s not that I can be rearranged.
I practice what can not be measured.
It’s reassuring not to be ignored.
Frank C. Praeger is a retired biologist who lives in the Keweenaw which is a peninsula that juts out from the northwest corner of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan into Lake Superior. His poetry has appeared in various journals in both UK and USA.