Two days ago, my eye began a dance
I didn’t like. My upper lid would start
to pull as if I had a tangled lash,
but nothing from outside had played a part.
The twitch resolved – then came the stiffest neck
I’ve yet achieved, and now I bear my face
upon a weaker link I’m sure to wreck
if I don’t learn to strengthen it in place.

From side to side I exercise that stem
of aching bone, and as I swing my head,
within I hear the movement rasp at them:
those vertebrae of ivory turned to lead.
I hear it grit and wear away at me
like sand invading fine machinery.