Crutch.There’s a picture of you
On crutches
Leaning against a jug
Full of old flowers
On my mantle piece
Above a fire that I
No longer light because
The weather has gotten better.
The crutches nest
Under your arm-pits
And were more likely
Than not
Carved from the branch
Of a ‘hanging’ tree
I don’t know
What you
Needed them for?
Maybe you just
Lost your feet
And fell where
Thousands stood.
Or maybe
The two halves
You made
Became the whole
That stumbled you.