It will take more than a chiropractor
to straighten her out.
When life’s bones are this brittle, misaligned,
misplaced, walking with
a limp is the least of her worries. Her
backbone has been broken more times than she
can count; self-splinting
has bred tendons spliced to indifferent
saviours, treacherous
lovers bent on abandonment. Self-doubt
leaches confidence
as surely as osteoporosis
saps strength and posture;
she raises tentative fingers, branches
clawing heaven’s door,
straining against the scoliosis scars
to grasp a sliver
of the blue she’s always known she can reach
if she stands up tall.