Wary Not Weary

The neck is almost loose again, but warns
me on occasion to keep taking care –
it shoots an upward stab of pain, like thorns
embellish aging disks that harbor there.
My tongue is nearly healed at tip, from where
I bit it stressed and chewing two days gone,
and yesterday my low back didn’t spare
a twist. Today I won’t be using brawn.

This entry was posted in Aging, Health, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a comment