Tailbone

fell on my tailbone from the stairs to the kitchen,
for weeks I walked around with a stiff pain
that spoke to me every time I tried to sit:
prudence
to be mastered with care, or
the Roselle of hidden choices; do you
really (not)
remember?
but again I do not want to think about death,
about why I had to scan the raw story of a stranger,
about what to learn from a morning fall, where it took me to.
I was being careless, and perhaps
I prompted the wrong question.
but the question was saving me from cascades of wrong answers, which taught me
patience,
to be mastered with care, or
the Roselle of hidden choices. I now,
understand my oblivion.