Ode to My Knees (After Falling Off my Bicycle)

You pick me up when I fall down.

Hands working with you

together

my saving grace.

You teach me to be flexible –

sometimes standing upright,

other times curling for spoons.

Triangles – downward dog

the backs – sensitive

bent – curvy great shapes,

building blocks.

Straight – weird knobby things.

Skin that’s tricky to shave,

there’s really no

cutting corners.

But mostly, sweet knees,

you carry my bones,

my spine,

my strength.