21 Mar
Posted in: Poems
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Now This

The orthopedic surgeon said: There’s a gel we could inject, but I don’t think it would help. Arthroscopic won’t do you any good. You can increase the naproxen to two tabs, twice a day, and I can write you a script for physical therapy, if you want. But those knees are going to need to be replaced. 

by Jane Hirshfield

In age, the world grows clumsy.

A heavy jar
leaps from a cupboard.
The suitcase has corners.

Others have no explanation.

Old love, old body,
do you remember–
carpet burns down the spine,
gravel bedding
the knees, hardness to hardness.

You who knew yourself
kissed by the bite of the ant,
you who were kissed by the bite of the spider.

Now kissed by this.

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