1.
I remember how I sat, even. Bunched.
There was nothing to hold on to
except my own flesh and the strong
bones inside. I’d never been
conscious of my bones before
(except when I broke them).
Everything in my world around
was either in shreds
or seeking to shred me.
And he said, since there is plainly
nothing you can do
and no solutions you can conjure up
you have to let go of such useless
questions as
what am I to do ?
what rune can I intone
to raise this vast portcullis ?
Just sit back.
Breathe in. Then out.
Ready yourself
for opportune events.
There’s nothing better.
There’s nothing else.
2.
I discover my bones only when I break them
or when they clench together and scratch
along each other’s surfaces. I’m told that stress
sometimes makes them act that way.
And then the whole body catches fire
and you cannot see the world any more –
just your own flames all round. I met a wall once
with my left foot held to the fore. Afterwards I noticed it
dangling and I shrieked and then someone in white
used the word “reconstruction” and squared his shoulders.
Later he said, you now have quite a lot of
refined steel inside you, along with nails and screws.
You won’t usually notice them except
when sometimes, usually in January,
the weather turns especially cold.
I am old I am old
the rivets in my flesh grow cold.
Rogan Wolf January/February 2017