The Balance Tipped

I've often imagined the scene,
me small against the span of linoleum,
you hovering above, the good mother,
come to carry me to dinner.
The pure innocence of play,
you took my hand but I pulled away,
one of the small seeds of darkness flowering.
Did we laugh before the jerk,
before the limb popped clean out of the socket,
joint swelling to an ugly bloom?

Later you told the story saying
it took the doctor just a quick snap to
and my arm was back in place,
a little rest,
a little care,
and I was good as new you'd say
and I liked saying it with you,
good as new,
good as new.