Odyssey
she shuffles in tattered slippers
held by elastic bands
securing them to her feet
bindings taken for granted
her thoughts settled into routine
to cross the dining room floor
to her table
lunch still matters to those buzzed by fog
dessert still stirs the blood to move
dysfunctional in age
she could go off in any direction at any time
like a heart monitor jittery, at the cusp of letting go
a harvested jumble of beats that still hang together
her odyssey
a matter of edges
stunted steps
close enough to the movement of others
bickering bodies sometimes
but removed enough to breathe
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