bound for glory

 

wheelchair

bound for glory

Woody Guthrie sings out

the body beautiful

song of myself

I rest my hand

where my leg stops

sudden at the knee -

bent fingers loving

old familiar scars

 

the black dog crept in

paws silently dripping

slowly poisoned wine

I taste the unfamiliar 

rawness of old scars

once it was wild Shuck

panting door to door

red-eyed in the night

now it's a dark mood

howling at the moon

Bill Albert/Joy McCall

published in Atlas Poetica 29
Paul Levy
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© 2015 by Bill Albert