Socket

Out of a ripped situation, we learned
to boat. Tacked once the harbor
in a wood-ribbed float
then curved to port.


I remember twirling through air,
a baton in pain, then an arm
backed into its socket
by a doctor.


Luxuriating in a structural schedule,
I open my bones.
I could go about it
differently, but what good


is rattling in a basket?
And is it waiting if you
don't know after
is what you'd want?