jayson tatum's achilles tear

limping, but barely
green and white paint
floors waxed so well you could see your face in them
his leg twisted in a way visceral and inhuman
my dad walks in—
“that can’t be good.”
you don’t say anything
gnawing on your bottom lip
exhaling forcefully
i put my hand on your knee
and wonder if this is how you act when im bleeding out
i wonder if you can hear the buzzers and the commentary in my own head
the tv dances in your eyes
i realize you can’t
and you won’t
because even when i tell you it’s all day-to-day
it doesn’t matter until I’m out for the season

back to index