WEBVTT

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I have a friend who's
cripple, and I wrote this one.

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It's called, "The Cripple."

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I pull my legs from the
floor as I would two weeds--

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Gently.

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Pretending my
roots have remained

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in the soil that
once held me upright

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in the palm of its hand.

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In the roads of black thread,
I walked, sowing years.

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Instead, the itch
deep in my heel

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cries from its mouth,
one thorn after another.

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And sowing is S-O-W-I-N-G.
I should have mentioned that

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before.