Gnarled
the floor smashes into her wrist
twisting the limb
she didn't see the floor, wet
aged 100
her mobility is stress heavy
like being priced out of a home
her fall of unexpected angles
with balance of nature, near gone
sometimes a mis-fire between mind and body
her living in strange places,
sometimes a drift of confusion
poking out from my mother's cast
purple fingers
swollen
Cuban cigar fat
gnarled
in a body that pushes her down
like a heavy window slammed shut
she sees each short walk as a victory
when resistance is a national anthem
when the puzzle of gnarled still allows a place to breath
still allows a way to seek higher ground
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