Phataria

A true Swede, I never cry
At injury. Tenacious
As a long winter,
I bear my ills
Tundra-wrapped.

But this ultimate surprise
Of snapped bone
Wrist to concrete
Marble-cracking quick
Fractures my terrain,
The ice jamb cracks

And all my ancient wounds,
Grievous and paltry, so long
Berged beneath blithe consciousness
Flood forth, helter skelter, hell bent

Drowning in surprise, I
Emerge dazed,
Treading boggy earth mindfully:
Somehow altered,
Forewarned.

Sandra Robison