Spirit flossing
Swallowing the gunk unstuck
From between ancestors’ tombstones
Blowing dust off musty old tomes
Shelved between pelvic bones
Checked out on loan
To the phone with a mind of its own
Keeping tabs on where mine’s gone
A grid of tainted love I can’t get rid of
Because I don’t want to be alone.
This is a dark timeline
I’m playing jumprope with
Dissonance of the masses on either side
Only Christ could forgift.
Some eras age like wine
Subsist off their crusts and resist this day’s fine.
Do your dumb duty,
Then step back out of line.
Hi there.
This is a poem about exercise. There are some activities whose benefits are so mysterious and beyond understanding that I find myself having to surrender my ordinary self-consciousness in order to go through with them, contending with the truth that my other priorities are small enough to set aside, and there are forces much larger moving through me.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Foraging for More to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.