Do you know where your ankle is?

It is eight fifteen.

Above your foot is the neck of your foot.

Where is the head of your foot?

Where are your foot's nether regions?

In hell?

This part, I've been told, was once admired for its elegant narrowing.

For its precariousness below a slope of calf.

My ankle holds, though it was once shredded.

Some man sewed it together like a seamstress.

I'll call him Lila.

I can be wounded and I can heal and be wounded again.

Watch me jump.

Up.

Down.