Thursday, November 7, 2024

poem

 Involuntary

I drag my past around like the empty half of an iron shackle

Clanging behind me while the other end cuts into my ankle


Despite the crud and blood and junk it’s accumulated

Over the years, it doesn’t seem to slow me down


Sometimes it feels like it’s attached to another person

And I’m responsible for all the dead weight


Admittedly it’s a much heavier burden now

But I move as fast as I did when I was 26


Over the years I’ve developed specialized muscles 

To power this steady forward progress


They’re involuntary, like the heart,

And they can’t be used for anything else


11/7/24

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