I feel alignments slowly waning;
My right knee about to spit a ligament,
The gout that recently left my bones alone
Gathering acidity around my toes,
The freezing thirty year cold of Christmas
Descending with a vengeance into the New Year,
And we all need the new oneto be nimble;
When I need to tap my truth I pry a bottle’s top
And taste it first to see if it’s been tempered,
But if still brittle I replace the cap and
Wait for another’s proof to test it,
For I can’t trust my mind unoccupied or leave
My hands to dangle, so I stake their frame to menial
Tasks and cage imagination.
And the night draws in and blankets us,
But what comfort is brought with its bandage
Is questionable: the peaceful sleep well,
And the nervous turn,
Whilst wretches expect rewards,
And those who are urgent
For morning’s response will hardly recline at all.
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