Backpedaling means nothing to a stationary bike
but my hamstrings feel the difference. It takes muscle
to unmake oneself; I’m at it every morning these days,
slinking to the gym before anyone is awake. You’ve lost weight,
the nurse says, reviewing a list of my recent arguments. Exercise
caution when speaking to a mirror. Sometimes your words
and your lips don’t line up and all you can do is wait
it out. Like that time over the phone when I told you
sorry it’s been a while, yes, I’ll be better—
the things we do for silence. On the other side
of the glass my left foot is my right but I’m still
in reverse, receding. A performance of motion. If I could
really go back, don’t you know I would? Don’t
you miss me? When you asked me not to change
I did my best. No one feels the earth turning,
but it never comes around the same—
One thought on "Backpedaling means nothing to a stationary bike"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
I feel this poem in my soul. I love the line breaks, the rhythm of them. It’s so beautiful, painful, and familiar. “If I could really go back, don’t you know I would? Don’t you miss me? When you asked me not to change I did my best,” sounds exactly like the sort of thing I’ve said to the people in my life.