Part of a Girl

In this one, my leg
snaps off and hovers
before me,
an impatient luna moth,
trying to guide me
anywhere else.

The break was painless. I'm
more concerned
with a triplet of Qs
needing As:

How can I follow you? Hop?

Where are my stockings,
the ones
I get lucky in?

When did you trade climbing
for being climbed?

A triplet? I lied.

When did I stop
stopping them? When
did what's between us morph
into a bait tin
full of wriggling fingers?
When
did I stop covering scratches
with Band-Aids
and start with the salt?

And leg, as you hover,
like some phantom chihuahua,
when did I first cut you off?