readings of my bones

the fall is enough to make me reassess and wonder if I waste my worry on the wrong things. sharp pain asks me to stay where I am: motionless and floating in a haze of analgesics for a day. at midnight they take readings of my bones with the machine, looking through the skin on a screen to figure out what's broken. something near my elbow on both sides. the doctor sits across the bed and tells me there'll be no use going home until I can move myself again. I agree, not wanting to ask someone else to help me bathe or dress or eat. rest and time to heal etc.

the night washes over in glimpses of dark between the beeps and flashes of monitors and vitals measurements. footsteps and whispers down corridors that never sleep. I try to scratch an itch on my cheek. when I wake I wonder what you're doing and if I'll be able to hold you again.