i fall

i am learning i can not.

Lucille Clifton

i drag myself in, all

clenching, tight fists

in ligaments, i want not

to feel

this, my body

wants not to feel so hard

where is the soft ground

to collapse?

i know how to clench

to lock knees, touch

toes and disconnect

from pulled muscles

in thighs and hamstrings

i know how to whisper

in my own ear, stop

being so sensitive, it's

not that big of a deal,

this will only make you

stronger

i know how to appear

firm and flexible, smile

and sponge it all in, sure

no problem at all

the thread of truth is

so confused

but not really, it's just

that locking knees,

locking jaws, locking

hips feels familiar

get ready to run, the

language of my

ligaments

we are halfway through

class and i'm somewhere

far in my mind, despite

breath, despite reminders

to feel feet on my mat

he invites us into anjaneyasana

i twist, i try but lungs

linger on the edge of thighs,

somewhere in that

non-breath state

the teacher comes over

puts his knee in my hip

turns me around and i

start to fall, start to freeze,

start to go all cold inside, he

hears me gasp

i've got you, he says

so i fall, and breathe

and fall and breathe

and twist and fall

and fall and soften

and let go a little and

breathe and fall and fall

and fall