legs

 I can’t seem get my legs to move

In the correct sequence

So as ineffectual as any Liberal,

I am standing aloof above

A contest between left and right.

Walking has become a problem

Requiring serious and detailed planning,

Long ago, I must have learned it,

Now, I’ve forgotten how

I ceased to be a quadruped

To become a waddling toddler instead,

In places along the long way that I’ve walked

I’ve lost this skill from time to time

To fall unbalanced, drugged, drunk.

Then I’ve re-righted

Brushing off embarrassing memories,

Until now, when I am a tripod at best.

Stick supported, as predicted

In the Sphinx’s riddle

I wince and moan, staggering around my home,

Wearing in an artificial new knee,

And while the ball and socket grinds,

Bone on bone,

In the leg that the surgeon left alone;

The walking me got up and strode away,

Leaving an old raspberry behind.