My Father Dropped Me

When I was ten, we were dancing; I dipped
and he let go. That short fall broke three of my toes:
cold crutches in the winter, a cast across
icy steps. As these things do

the bones grew in
crooked, each node an accusation,
each weakness a knowing nod. Last year
the x-rays showed exactly what

needed to be done. In an ice storm
this March I clenched my teeth, watched
as my own hands rebroke those bones.

photograph ©Laura Kicey


David said...

Bloody fab.

helveticaneue said...

whew that is exquisite!

Nick (CFKS) said...

This made me clinch a little.

Kate Horowitz said...

Nick - Is that good?

David and Laura - Thanks so much.

Mr. Apron said...

OOooh, Jesus! Owie-wowie-zowie.


P.S. When I was 15, my father ran my foot over with the family Saab. At the hospital, a nurse approached me to take my blood-pressure. My father, the Israeli banshee, ran down the hallway screaming,

"Take MY blood-pressure! I ALMOST KILLED MY ONLY SON!!!"


Kate Horowitz said...

I should probably clarify--this is not autobiographical. It's what them fancy writin' folks call a "metaphor."

Kate Horowitz said...

Also, Apron Boy, I absolutely did a spit-take on my couch when I read your comment. Something about Israelis, man. Everything's just so damn epic. I would have given anything to witness that breast-beating.

Nick (CFKS) said...

Oh yes, that is good! It was able to create a physical reflex within me. Very good. ;)

Shaylen Maxwell said...

Agreed, this is awesome!! : ) I think I'd have left them crooked! LOL!

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