Stretching chaos

There was a time I didn’t know
how to fry an egg.
At one point I couldn’t walk,
now I run for buses I know I’ll never catch.
I couldn’t say ‘Mum’ for ages
and now I forget to call.
My fingers remember my PIN number
when my brain can’t.
My body feels like the roots of a tree:
stretching chaos below the surface,
miraculously keeping me pointed up.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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