Cerebral Palsy:

I don’t know why I’m writing to you.

No, wait, I do. I want to understand

why I hate you.

The other day, my brother pointed out

how I spelled you wrong.

With a T at the end of Cerebral. At

least I think so.

I don’t want to check. I don’t want to

revisit my mistake.

I covered my ears when he said it.

Much of the time, how I’m trying to

cover up you.

Remember when I was younger, you

carried me

all the way across the living floor, so I

could feel the rush of walking without

aluminum against my back?

These crooked feet, so quickly

contract blisters on the big toes

without support. You take me down

several breaths when that happens.

I walk infinitely slower than I already

think I do. I curse myself for trying

to run or walk as everyone else:…