Wracked

When I consider many ages ago,
The many deprivations, many blows,
This body’s sustained-
Of course it still complains.
My last efforts burned my final reserves
I fight for upright, but sag and curve
To inevitable rest
I pray the next doctor knows best
How to undue the bitter years

Still working themselves out in my flesh.

For now, the pain is presumed
The aching, racing, burning resumes
The sharp pain like cutting wakes
Like shattered glass, or driving stakes,
The dull pain that sits on me askew
Haranguing all I try to do.
At length, I forget to be my friend
As all my failures swirl and blend
Into one monstrous masterpiece

Of hideous impotence.