5. The Throat that Welcomes Time’s Sharp Edge
As new year morning bodies claim full height
as do rising suns
the sky,
my own stature is compromised
by a spinal scoliosis that rides
my ass like a question mark.
Well, it’s more like a street sign really,
warning of dangerous curves ahead-warning
this crooked row of chalk crab apples
rising to fill the bushel of my brain
shall be juiced as all blood’s
usefully wasted red
destined to feed
the bone-breathing pyre
of earth.
But how can I turn my back
on this persistent frame,
this fence
of time and softening substance,
with such good friends
and neighbors?
Gyroscope Review 49
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