Broken

By Ruth Bacharach

PROMPT — Despite ...

I am staring at my leg.

In my head, I think, Move!

I will my body to move, and

nothing.

Once on my way to the mountains,

a boulder exploded on the road.

I can’t pull on my left sock.

I can’t pull on my right sock.

I am left

flat in bed waiting.

I have to call. Who will

open the window when my roommate soils herself?

I have to ask for a pillow,

for chairs, one generic pain pill.

Where is the call button?

I have to wait.

I have to wait for the nurse,

the charge nurse,

the med tech,

the shower lady.

When I shiver with urgency,

I have to wait

for

James from Kenya appears.

They have put me in a hospital gown.

Its huge bat wings flap in the night.

I say to him, My ass is hanging out.

It just bursts out of me.

He is shocked, and we both laugh.

I want to wipe my tears.

I wait six hours for a tissue.

I wait for night to pass.

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Ruth Bacharach is a retired librarian. She writes from Lake Forest Park, WA.