Tyson West
My Posse Pain
My wrinkles rift apart as my hairs grey
pain permeates my muscles, joints, and feet
in slaloms of my salad days I'd greet
quick cramps or bruises—garlands from hard play.
The longer my flesh aged and joined the fray
the more dull throbs and soreness left their seat
my wrinkles rift apart as my hairs grey
pain cuddles with my muscles, joints, and feet.
I popped once pills to send my aches away
each smarting pinch and pang then seemed discrete
my chronic chums play an orchestral suite
I'm drugless lest I miss this cabaret.
My wrinkles keep the beat as my hairs grey
aches harmonize my muscles, joints, and feet.
Bio
Tyson West has published speculative fiction and poetry in free verse, form verse and haiku distilled from his mystical relationship with noxious weeds and magpies in Eastern Washington. He has no plans to quit his day job in real estate.