Broken and healthy: a daily crapshoot

Some days, I’m broken.

With

A set of hips that reach too eagerly towards my ribs as if trying to hug them and curve too shallow like a Ferrari running off the track.

An ovary that made itself a friend who persistently tries to escape its damp prison unless sedated with the proper dose of drugs.

A pair of near-arthritic joints in hands that write entire worlds and new people out of nothing and into being.

An eye that grew so tired of seeing my sadness that it turned off the lights and may be the ha...