I was foolish, wearing jewelry
That was sentimental
In a city of wind tunnels
Thinking I had plenty of time
To get to the hospital
That my late twenties—and late thirties—
Wouldn’t be a series of small ego deaths
That I could make it to the subway
After staying up all night with the baby
Watching both Miss Congenialty movies
Without stumbling over my own feet
Bashing my knee—which still hurts
Even now as I fold onto the tufted rug
To give you one last kiss goodnight
This gave me a twinge in my knee damn knees have long memories and show up unexpectedly in poems and mothers
That my late twenties—and late thirties—
Wouldn’t be a series of small ego deaths
Oh yes!