Poetic Opportunity

So... the fun thing about injuries are the healing--the figuring out how the body works and learning more about what's what and how everything is connected. (What's that kid's song? The ___is connected to the (pause) shoulder. da du da du da du... Music doesn't translate well to words.)

In February, I was directed to write a poem about an object. I chose an object I didn't even know the name of--those knobs on the back of the hip bone that flank the spine--right under the kidney. (Yup, put your hand on your lower back and find it... ) Digging through yoga anatomy books and talking with a friend who teaches Anatomy and Physiology, I discovered that the knob is called the PSIS... My left PSIS hurt, and I wanted to know WHY.

All that caused me to write a poem about all my new-found knowledge, turning pain into knowledge into beauty: (I don't know why I entitled it "cacique.")

Cacique

I do not know your name but you hurt
me. your dull ache a seismograph scale
plate tectonics reverberate my
ocean body. Richter measures hair
line, or pinpoints quarter of kidney.
I drop a soothing stone sending you
ripples, your echoes hash discontent.

I am not the bulkhead the masthead
the figurehead of the ship. I am
the stern the dimple behind fusion
of hull and mast stable and senses
hip and spine pelvis and sacrum. you
cannot perceive me unless I slip
sinking ship.

to speak anatomically say
the PSIS hides SI joint:
(the posterior superior
iliac spine; sacroiliac)
to speak metaphorically say
this knob is a peak is a mountain
is the dark night of the snake’s soul hip