revival

My body stopped
around the same time my words did.

My body put its foot down
down
through the floor
sinking sideways
guilty with pleasure
crushed by the weight of myself

and of him

not the perpetrator
but he
who I gained, and lost, in breaking

felt weak from all the serving
from all the holding of dinners
at the sides of those
k, ok- gestures
to the profiles of persons
and having woken every morning for five weeks
shaking
how could I expect it steady?
Poor foot.
I'm sorry.

Poor foot... poor, poor foot.

so poor it emptied my bank account
all four thousand dollars
I had from
waiting.

and after I lost my blue stone
in the back of the rental car
my throat stopped, too
Stoppered up
or maybe it's because I
entered my third year ...
no, I think it's because I
broke myself, silly.
Or rather, was broken
by forces within and
without

myself.

she put it
right,
her hair in braids,
she said what I'd not yet thought
but felt:

When the dancing stops
so does the speaking.