memories of damage #1

there are, no lights
when my eyes open. Except
the hushed blue
from atop the garage door.

clotted/throbbing/shifted
indigo leaks onto bone and
I immediately notice the jagged pain of
a metal
can, cracked in half
between two vertebrae.
I am showered in it's thick liquid;
warm sugar dripping down my neck.

they left!
panicked, before I was
re-submerged by the darkness.
unconscious.
nothing but August night air hitting the train tracks and
coyote calls around me.
body pressed to concrete
bike left untamed.

I remember the view.
railings of the loading dock,
my feet above me,
backpack straps,
bicycle splayed sideways on
the narrow slope of grass,
night sky obscured by
tops of warehouses.

I cry out.
thick layers of skin lost
from my palms, my knees.
helmet digging into my chin
swollen.
a sense of loss
embarrassment
disgust.
where was I? Alone, and
betrayed by my own actions of which
i still can not remember
to this day.

you must stand, now. I said
to myself. Out loud and
gently.
my mind gaps
on how i lumbered to my bike
wheeled the damaged steed around the corner
stopped.
street lamps
and another coyote howl.
Someone was waiting for me there.
I collapsed. supported.
someone to hold my
body, tender like
bruised roses.