Jen Karetnick
CO-MORBIDITIES
An American sentence acrostic
You’re not allowed to ride horses,
not permitted to bike or hike, not even
supposed to twist a certain way in Pilates,
to curl in a yoga pose that could rupture you.
Walk on a crack. Break. This is what you hear
on repeat every time you think about those
three, four, five words of diagnosis. Diseases that are
sisters or mother-daughter duos, living
in your bones and meat their Grey Gardens
dreams. Still, you let the dog leashes ankle-tie
you, pulling you over. You slam your ribs into the pickleball net.
Climb platforms in heels only to fall on your knees, since
trespassing is permissible, you decide, against your own body.
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