Not Being Too Smart, A Poem by Chris Russell

I recently tweaked my knee somewhere in the outer back of my leg

so that now each time I bend it while climbing the stairs

a pain starts to glow through me like one of those supernatural,

horror movie light bulbs that explode on the porch of an old house

filled with many secrets, one being a demon that likes to scare its

inhabitants for a while before it decides to move in and take somebody. 

I was just moving some heavy boxes. It wasn’t like I was pushing myself

more than I normally would. Though I suppose there was the waiting

at the top of the stairs for a few minutes for my heartbeat to leave my

ears and my breath to sit down.

And if I’m to be honest, when I felt my knee twinge I did keep climbing,

each wince an attempt to climb it out, and I admit I did do this a few

times until all the boxes had been relocated from a neighbor’s porch

to my living room.

All you did was walk up and down some stairs and carry heavy boxes,

I tell myself. It wasn’t exactly the kind of high-risk situation you tie

yourself to and make a YouTube video with. It’s not like you were

scaling a bridge to bungie jump for the sake of completing a bucket list

made up of all the things you wanted to do and didn’t because they

were either too dangerous or too expensive or both.

%d bloggers like this: