Faint Poem

On TV newscasts they show the sprain. This woman had
Fallen or slipped or been a mother
In a suburban location. I’m not sure why this was news
In the 80s but the enjambment, the cleanliness of the break
Was obvious, in the X-Ray, you could see it crack.

A virgin at this: never hit the floor so hard.
The tide empty out. A pulley
To not awash, not scurvy or talon
No talisman to rub. But that altered sentence
Of where I feel versus a few minutes ago
I’m not sure of the mechanism. Doctors say Vaso-Vagal

This is not a joke: congratulations you won.

I have been fainting since I was nine. I was told only men show effects. I get called unmanly for fainting. Men staying around long after implication win a badge. For not being able to withstand violence, taking it lying down, vulnerable to attackers, I’m kidded. Others only imply. No sympathy, no shouts. When I’m on the floor, huddled below a sympathy conference, there are absences.