Blue bikes, broken bones.

motorcycle crash

You called out my name, as the wheels on the gurney squeaked.

 

 

Three weeks earlier I burned the side of my leg off
 your bike’s exhaust.
When you started the engine this time
I was sleeping off the usual garbage.
Head hanging down again off the
stained blue sofa.
 It was a brilliant
summer afternoon. Between brown stripes of my hair shined in the sun.

Laid out in a hospital room
your body so stressed calmly caught my scent.
Eyes salted, mouth opened pumping out
shallow breaths. Your body
offered out the unbroken hand.

Hands that sketched the silhouette
                           of my face.Hands that memorized sketches of my skin.Hands that held me safely,
 now gripping at the space between us.