A Full Life

a mild case of cp the doctor said

when she was  three and flower-faced.

a developmental glitch,

that has made a  difference

in her scheme of things,

a life apart.

her wise right hand tenses,

a  bird’s claw.

she has a funny limp,

the kids call her wimp.

she falls  down steps

unaware of depths,

but she know the depths

of cruelty

in the playground

the general runaround.

she sinks into a blanket

of excuses and poetics,

excuses keep her from school

and words don’t stare.

p-ceed and knock-kneed,

guaranteed

a life of obstructions,

malfunctions,

courage up for grabs somewhere

where she isn’t.

so spring and summer

pass her by,

indifferent to roses

she crosses

the street looking

four ways, then

limps up hill.