An Inflammatory Condition
Hours nibble at a back strain.
Tenuous strings were tugged
lifting water bottles.
You wonder how weak and fragile
you are. How vulnerable to
those ancient red tides within
that can bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.
Quartered by straining horses,
neural fibers alliterate a thrumming fugue
upon a desiccated elastic band;
one now stretched far too taut.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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