Kayla Greer Poet Villanelle

My Left Knee

My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
It clicks like disapproval down the stairs,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
At seventeen, I ran until too late—
now cartilage remembers every dare.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
The doctor called it mild, then moderate,
prescribed his pills and physical repair,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
I miss the thoughtless body, its clean slate,
the kneeling, leaping, dancing unaware.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight.
Some mornings it predicts the weather’s state,
a creaking oracle that I can’t spare—
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.
I’ll walk again, they say, but hesitate
means something now, and trust is what wears bare.
My left knee bends but will not bear my weight,
a hinge that’s learned to question and to wait.

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Paige Hind October 13, 2025 at 7:00 PM This is a really well written and different Villanelle. Thanks for your musing, somebody's going to read it, and say aha :)