{infirm delight}

Monday, April 17, 2006

What is this awkward tension that lash
Together muscles of my back like logs?
It travels outward from the spine:
To limp limbs it brings a twinge
That locks fingers around the pen
And falls from the pen onto the page.

My head it shrinks so that
my tongue — worst of all—
Bulges in my shrunken mouth
To shrink my voice as well.

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