I hear the crash
over the sound of soft folk music,
the panic in the daughter’s voice,
Don’t move, Mom.
She calls an ambulance,
people gather,
blood leaks from her mom’s temple
onto the concrete walk,
grey hair stained crimson,
purse contents strewn about,
a shoe thrown from a falling foot,
standing perfectly upright by the door
as if on display in a shoe-store window.
Paramedics tend to her,
bandage her head,
ask her questions,
Do you know what day it is?
rate her comprehension,
exude calmness
and compassion.
No, she won’t go to the hospital.
Her daughter will stay the night,
to tend to her,
to love her.