Because I was under the influence of an illegal drug,
not paying attention to what I was doing
although I was doing it for the first time
when my hip gave out.
Because the vacuum cleaner I was trying to move
was a new purchase, awkward and heavy.
Unfamiliar with how best to maneuver it, I
did not account for its unequally weighted components
so my hip gave out.
Because the space I was trying to fit the machine into
was so tight, it only fit one way.
I had not yet figured this out
when my hip gave out.
Because the vacuum itself had been so filthy
from the store reselling it used and uncleaned
of dog hair, flea powder and dead fleas,
we had actually talked of bringing it back
but didn't because I had already cleaned out the mess
when my hip gave out.
Because I had received a massage the day before
from a new masseuse using a hard foam bolster
under my chest. This dropped my hips
as she pressed into trigger points where
my hip then gave out.
Because this injury is near where I hurt myself
lifting a piece of concrete
less than five years ago,
and now my hip gives out.
Because I recently tore a calf muscle
on the same side as this hip
which now gave out.
Because years ago a calcium deposit
on my Achilles tendon, again on the same side,
caused me a lot of pain
before my hip gave out.
Because I was fighting an outbreak of genital herpes
chronically not getting adequate sleep,
ignoring the stress encountered at work
and still recovering from my father's last visit,
his first since my mother died.
Because it would soon be the first anniversary
of my mother's death.
Because my sex life is problematic,
and this depresses me.
Because one of my students acts like she has a crush on me,
and I am trying to respond in an appropriate manner.
Because my hips have always been stiff,
tight and inflexible, probably the result
of trying to exit my mother's womb sideways
before the doctor reached in
and turned me around.
Because I am fifty years old
yet failed to do any stretching before
I started to vacuum.
Because one of our cats again peed on the floor,
and I have just discovered this.
Because the country I am a citizen of
is again at war.
Because I had just revised a poem
about lying to protect myself.
Because my hips hold me up, help me move, jump and dance,
and I have always been a poor dancer
since the girl across the street
slapped me for picking her up
while dancing in the seventh grade.
Because my hips connect my head to my feet,
my thoughts to my steps, my words to my walk,
leaves to roots, heart to crotch, brain to whatever
is under there, all that is not cerebral:
shadow, brother, life on this earth,
memory's cradle, sexuality's nest, love's mysterious basement,
the floor below the heart's foul shop: the shelf
where the seed sack is kept: hip
joint, socket, pivot and flex: rock
and roll's groove, Hippocratic, hypnotize, hippocampus,
hypotenuse, hippie, hop, hope, help and pop
is the sound I heard
when my hip gave out.
© Vincent Peloso 2003
