You rip me unwhole
a fractured person
wet spine, can’t hold straight
deep deep velvet silence suffocating,
My spine can’t hold itself up.
Pressure on the vertebrae,
for each disc, you have, carefully compressed
splayed, crooked, adjacent
small movements cause spiked pain
straight shots reverberating through,
deepening cracks and crevasses.
Unwhole, two halves
nameless small pieces missing
all is soaked and soft
up and down spinal nerves crackle and fizz
electric and suffering
they have no boundaries, shoot straight to the brain.
I take what’s offered
hollow sounds, empty drumming
your voice
ever weakening what was once strong thick bone
once proud, now,
my spine can’t hold itself up.
image from the drifter and the gypsy
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