SECRETARY

I’m saying what I’m saying is when she tells you don’t, don’t   don’t do it    don’t do stairs, steps    no stairs no steps   listen to me   I didn’t listen   thought oh I know better   could out-know the doctor as if I was the head of obstetrics not a secretary at a furrier’s   argued, just the stairs to the apartment, go out come home   just one subway, no transfer, to work   and back   she knew Gill and I were deep in medical bills on top of rent   she modified the riot act: at absolute absolute most two weeks, with not a step more than necessary   wrote it in caps, made me take the paper   in bold letters “after two weeks you stay home”   she wasn’t smiling: this isn’t a choice   two weeks came and went and three and on the fourth Monday boss wanted files up in his office stat    I said how ’bout Mary   no, not Mary, you, and bring the letters to sign   the elevator was out   bastard wouldn’t walk down a flight   blood pressure one digit higher meant bed 24/7   “don’t” rang like a pealing bell in my head   I woke up to Mary and Lucille cradling me on the top step   bloody handprints on the railing, my skirt, shoes red    a siren wailing don’t don’t, don’t don’t, don’t don’t