Brace

Retrieved from the closet once more,

another problem I must stabilize.

Bones creak and muscles moan

with pain, each step

more taxing than the last.

I am carefully slipped on,

hugging the heel and ball,

attempting to bring some —

if any — relief.

My boning has already stretched

far past its limits,

my shape slowly distorting.

I still hear groans and grunts

echoing — problems which I cannot

resolve.

Yet I still hold on,

for that is my essence.

My purpose.

To piece together a shattered puzzle,

a puzzle the manufacturer

would not be able to fix.

I hold my complaints,

just as I hold this ankle.

Soon I will be discarded again,

returned to the depths of the closet,

only to be needed once more

in a few months.