(im)mortal

Jay Heins

Starting to come apart. 
First metatarsal, a creaky knee, 
low back, this sinistral shoulder. 
One too many falls to earth. 

Rupture of the fibrous capsule? 
Frozen joint. Impingement syndrome. 
(Im)paired muscle memory. 
A broken wing. 

Chiropractor: excavates under scapula;
peels back onion skin scar tissue; 
dry needle penetrates damaged layers; 
applies nine-volts to rotator cuff. 

Here, stand in a puddle and hold 
this live, downed powerline. 
Blinding, (in)finite white light! 
My halo clatters to the ground.

The Science

As we grow older, the systems in our bodies tend to fail. This fact came clear last winter, after an innocuous skiing accident, when I could no longer lift my left arm above my head. Treatment consisted of repeat visits to the chiropractor for manipulation and magnetic resonance imaging to sort out the cause. The diagnosis: torn and fraying supra- and infraspinatus tendons with degenerative, age-related changes. Enough of thinning of the cartilage. Enough of adhesive capsulitis. Enough bursitis, tendinosis, chondropathy, osteoarthritis. Enough all-around failure. I just want to fly.

The Poet

Jay Heins’ work pairs poetry with visual art and asks you to consider both small miracles and large tragedies. Jay holds a BFA, is the art director at OER Project, and lives in Ottawa with Tanya and Samuel.

Next poem: Instead of dread by Bobby Rose King