Roller Skating, Sprained Elbow, Farmer's Market!

Erin Healey | Fall 2021

I sprained my elbow roller skating
I was 19 and it had been a month 
Since she died, 
My childhood friend with red-brown hair 
Who had taught me about horses, 
The makeshift roller rink of the university ballroom
Pulsed with neon colors and the sign of the 
Commuter Students Association
I had streaked on blue eyeshadow 
I had been waiting for something to glitter for 

I held onto my friend Lydia’s hand 
And bared teeth to lip when
I crashed down
Pain like dull waves in the 
Soft crook of my arm
On my knees on the glow-in-the-dark paneling
Dizzying, Lydia knelt and asked if I was alright 
What a question!

I spent the next month in constant quiet pain
Maneuvering carefully around the dorm
A constant and physical thing,
I was fascinated by the plum-dark
Way the bruise spread across 
My elbow 
Tender to touch, it reminded of 
Something rotting 
It was a little too on the nose 
I brought my body up from bed 
And winced at the pain and sight of mourning 

Although I prayed for it, I did not see my dead friend
And her auburn hair in my dreams like my other friends had 
Constant and overwhelming was the reminder of her death
Every day I saw girls eating, going to the gym, tipping back
Their heads to pull up their hair
And was reminded, like a pulse, that she could not do that

Finally, months later, after the bruise on my elbow healed,
I saw her
I dreamt I was at the farmers market and found her in the crowd
Bowed by this act of metaphysical grace,
I shook her by the shoulders and yelled that I loved her
My friend did not notice 
In the hustle and bustle of the astral farmers’ market,
She slipped away 

I woke up and did not have the bear the brunt of my elbow
But I still open every door with the uninjured hand