Hummingbirds & hips by Nancy Schatz Alton
My left hip holds the unnameable; the nerves that pulse here
stop me from running
& yet these strong legs still hold me up
(like the tree trunk out front that refuses to die)
& bring me to windows to spy hummingbirds.
I have a feeling these legs have been here before:
gazelle to giraffe,
gorilla to grasshopper,
great grandmother to grace—
a flower blooming as nerve: my left hip.
These strong legs fed by nerve pulses.
Legs that ran me up & down the soccer field.
Legs that ran a double-loop, 1 mile around the school yard
through the heat of day, my breath making a rhythm I could count on
uncurled my misery into joy.