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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
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Bill Albert/Joy McCall
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published in Atlas Poetica 29
Paul Levy
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