The mind said run. It asked:
what happens if you take a swift turn?
The knee grumbled: There is no
discernable shift. God is tired
of favors despite your forward motion.
Each day you place one precious, silk-hung
nicety on a line and hope someone notices.
He hasn’t yet.
The ankle gripes: change, though eminent,
The hips stay quiet. They carry their load,
the heavy lines of the legs. Work
is work after all, even hanging
hope out to dry,
even hurtling the weight of a body
down a narrow street with its low-slung
bungalows. See how the joints hum
in the wind, pinned into stable motion?
This is all you can do.
They are at home in their sockets.
Lucianna Chixaro Ramos is a Brazilian-American poet. She has served as the Editor-in-Chief of Obra/Artifact, a journal of experimental poetry, and is currently an MFA student at Stetson University's MFA of the Americas. Her work can be found in the journals New South and Otoliths. For more information you can head over to her website at www.luciannacramos.com