SPARK

Stephanie Ross
Inspiration piece

I SKINNED MY KNEE ON THE WAY TO PARIS
By Stefanie A. Shilling
Response

I skinned my knee on the way to Paris.
It wasn’t the bulging tree roots
outside the flower shop that tripped me up,
it was the buckets bursting with bouquets
of Butter Daisies and pink Canterbury Bells.
My sandaled foot bumped the base of the bucket
and thus began the slow-motion stumble
where my bare knees kissed the cobblestone.

I skinned my knee on the way to Paris.
It wasn’t the race through
the bustling terminal that tripped me up,
it was the passenger in seat 5D
with the size 10 Doc Martens jutted out into the aisle.
My size 5 canvas flats were no match
and thus began the slow-motion stumble
where my bare knees scraped the suitcase.

I skinned my knee on the way to Paris.
It wasn’t the hand-tufted rugs in the
extravagant hotel lobby that tripped me up,
it was the puddle of the cotton comforter
hanging off the corner of the bed.
My travel-weary feet tangled themselves
and thus began the slow-motion stumble
where my bare knees crashed into the carpet.

But now here I sit at the foot of the Eiffel Tower,
looking up and realizing:
after a lifetime of dreaming of this moment,
it’s time for a new dream.

My skinned knees are ready.

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