I was thirteen,
my whole leg in a cast.
It was like lugging
a piece of pottery around.
And every human face I knew
took a pen and wrote on me.
I used to lie in bed at night
and read it.
And when I healed
they broke it—
I walked away
without a shard.
Paula? Carl? Whoever you are,
I will not be there to drink the water
beside your bed.
I read three thousand books,
and then I died.