Seeking my place
in this new body,
opening doors to some rooms
I’ve seen before
and some that are new to me,
a few that were locked away
from me by design or mistake,
and some that I thought I knew well
that have been altered in some way;
small unclear changes that somehow
have broken my unearned sense
of security, my trust in my able grasp.
Here’s a cracked cup lying
where it has fallen from my numb hand.
There, my guitar with its bloody neck
that I long to play but fear to pick up.
Everything
fraught with the small dangers
of life —
I might have a moment later
where I am comfortable here
but right now, all I can do
is keep trying the locks,
turning the handles,
seeking.