The Band

I fell off my bike and cracked a rib that
catches me out, even as I tackle
teeth. In bed she grabs my heart,
nagging me to notice her - by stabbing,
forcing wakefulness; ‘health and safety,
stay alert, and how about
symmetrical?’ A shallow breath grips
every waking step - to keep my ribcage static.

What is a force that holds my chest so safely in
the shallow end? No strength from me can
override a partial breath! A power, strong containing
hand, holds my trunk within a band, for healing time.
I’m in a cage because a mother-force beyond my ken dictates
a gasp. Why? For greater purpose than we ever know.