FRACTION
Where once the pain
Was uniform
And universal,
Now synapses transmitting signals
Are scattered—
Many pieces,
Separate sources of energy:
The souls of my feet,
The soft tissue behind the knee,
A blood vessel in my left hand,
The scab on my little finger
From being scraped against the wall:
Each source has its own clock,
Separate triggers,
Varied cycles.
Each fraction becomes its own whole
As the body ages and the great clock
Leaps forward tick after tock.
Pain becomes normal:
Peace the exception
And not the
Rule.
COPYRIGHT (C) 2012 BY THE AUTHOR
