Gravity

She sat, on a comfortable couch, papers

stacked in neat piles, clipped and bull-dogged, sticky

notes listing incompletes. She had

to get up, adjust her bones and fight

gravity, pressing her

down

down

down

into the couch, into the flooring, into the joists on

stacks of concrete

on gravel

on sand

and whatever else, right to that core. She just knew

if she didn't move, her pelvis

and all the rest of it

would split

through fatty tissue, veins and skin

all those layers

bursting a skeletal display

of density versus Newton force

for her daughter

watching a show she refers to as Rydan (a mispronunciation)

to see.