Knees Go First

Knees are often the first to go
scraping and groaning

as cartilage tears 
and bone rubs against bone

as osteoporosis 
weakens the very structure 

your evenings spent applying ice
to dull the ache 

*

you’ve reached a certain age
children grown and gone

and you with a glimpse of time 
and space     and freedom

till pain wakes you every night
till the thrill you felt 

on reaching this phase of life
has instead become unsteadiness 

*

a battle forcing you to ride a train
speeding express into the city

an hour’s ride and subway transfer
to the office of a specialist 

supine on the bed in a dusty office
poked and prodded and imaged

your limits laid bare     backlit
and hung as reference

*

a plan is made     and you back out
on leaf-scattered streets of NY autumn

already the chill winds
are hammering their song of winter 

that squats just under the horizon
ice and snow     and the anesthesiologist

whose murmur will one day soon
be penetrating your skin and brain

*

when you fight your way back
to the surface 

newly componentized 
clips and hinges of metal and plastic

modified now into something inanimate
you enter a world of refrigeration 

and storage     the mysteries of inventory
and supply chain management.

PAUL ILECHKO

Paul Ilechko is a British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertville, New Jersey. His work has appeared in many journals, including the Bennington Review, The Night Heron Barks, Southword, Permafrost, and the Inflectionist Review. His first book is scheduled for 2025 publication by Gnashing Teeth Publishing.