I am a button

I am newly threaded:
a button
held together
with pieces of string
cut and tied and sewn back together

I have been rebuilt
out of spare parts
ligaments formed
from unused tendon
cut and tied and sewn back together

I must admit that
I am a brain
in a meat suit
worn by a skeleton,
though it may be

I am awake at four AM;
the ache has returned,
the morphine is too far away,
his gentle snoring too beautiful--
I cannot reach nor bend
but I will not break
the silence

I am on a schedule:
rest, ice, compression, elevation.
healing is work--
I have taken time off work
to work harder than before,
a work that does not stop

I am a machine
creaking gears
bones grinding to a halt
spluttering, leaking
requiring maintenance,
duct-taped back together

marionette strings jerk
in unnatural movements
muscles jumping under unyielding skin
straining against screws and strings and

In a sore and tired body
that sleeps all day but is restless at night
my brain paces the corridor
remembering what it was like
to walk without pain
without crutches
without the tight tug of

I am a button,
to the touch;
in time, I will heal,
my new ligament
will stretch
will strengthen
and hold me together