Morning Aches

Awakening

I groan

grasping

the cradling covers

I fling them

to the ground

Unleashing a systematic

pressure release

Popping all my rivets

as I bend in half

Air flushes

through flaccid lungs

Moaning like

the wretched wind in the

Decayed copse of

poplars down the

dead end street

Tripping over a

fat shadow in the hall

Bumping my already

dizzy head

On the same patch

of drywall

I hit yesterday

And the day before

Checking for plaster

I comb

clawed fingers

through wild hair

Rubbing my eyes, I

Gaze deep

into the mirror

Expecting to see

grey hair, wrinkles

There is very little

skin, smooth and supple

My knees must be

sagging bowling balls

From how they feel

I drag my eyes

Away from the silvery reflection

Somehow

they look strong and straight

Still I can

feel the expanding balloon

Inside each socket’s bowl

I won’t even stop to think

of my hips

Otherwise

I might trip

This time

I’ll fall right down

the rabbit hole

Never to rise up again

K.B. Silver

I have had the good fortune of having a few poems published in the online magazine Wishbone Words. This piece was included in Issue 14. It’s a magazine made by disabled creatives for the disabled community.

I decided to share this today because I have been having a rough week health-wise. If you haven't seen me much the past couple of days, this is why. I am trying to make sure I get on, read a few stories, and interact, but I haven't even been working on my other projects. Mostly sleeping and resting my muscles and joints.