The Ossified Man In Situ
Some days, my body and I have a battle–
stormclouds stuffing my right leg, my stomach
like bees in a kettle drum. I wait
for the patience to come and find me,
hungry in the same way
I always am–for quelling the noise
inside me. Some days, a dam breaks
and threatens to flood my thoughts
with desolation. I am familiar
with these subtle movements, the groaning clamor
with these subtle movements, the groaning clamor
of this container–this inhospitable ground
& consecrated space.
4 thoughts on "The Ossified Man In Situ"
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I love how your fresh metaphors energize this poem of complaint. a long tradition.
The language in this poem is very beautiful.
I Iove — I am familiar/with these subtle movements, the groaning clamor/ of this container–this inhospitable ground
& consecrated space.
What a breathtaking image –“my stomach / like bees in a kettle drum.”
Man, do I feel this one. So well articulated.