“My Name is Pain, you Belong to Me”

   (With thanks to Bernie Taupin)

Unflexing, non-malleable, overstretched, taut;

the cords of my neck have tightened like a noose and defeated me.
cold, heat, pills, rubs, fascial and trigger point massage.
raised my work surface with a ream of paper, my elbow with a beanbag.
circumventing right turns, and reversing is challenging.
muscles swollen and clenched, leaving my view to only what’s ahead.
just one night of sleep, one morning without distress, one action without pain.

Gods know I’ve tried to hold my ground, giving not an inch;

I’ve eschewed my pillows, using only the tartan travel horseshoe I bought at Logan;

I avoid the phone unless I can use a Bluetooth, shun the landline;

Every type of stress in my life is bound up like macramé in my neck and shoulder;

The prospect terrifies, the outlook is bleak, the spectacle blurred;

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 15 July 2015