All the lovely words I ache to use
—grip and finny, plangent,
Snout
Elastic
Importune
Enarctic, absolute
Byzant—
Flee
Embargoed, subject to my
Inarticulation
Used to be
Words bottlenecked inside
—As blade leapt and feet patterned
Faster than the conscious mind can ken
Spilled forth late at night when
Dried from sweat and
Drenched with images
I’d channel on the page
The residue of dreams
Inspirations that upon the strip
Fall short
Trying to capture them with
Syllambolic grace
Synoptic brevity
Since I’ve gone lame, that
Well’s run dry
Phrases cramp and tangle in my brain
Fail beneath my weight
My lagging foot has
Dragged my measure down,
Undermined my
Métier
Gimped my game
My hand and foot are yoked in their dysfunction
Mute, I’ve slaved at patient repetition
Labored to rebuild the
Tendoned scaffold of my lunge
Drill minute adjustments to the pitch and weight and
Slant of step and shift
Strive to rediscovery thoughtless ease
But last night, gingerly untangling my brace
Applying ice, assessing the resentment of my knee
My eyes were captured by the
Ferritopic cut and slash
The sabre bums employ
Their ranting stutter stamp and
Shout
Their embered arguments
I scrabbled in my bag for pad and pen
Recovery is marked by
such small steps as these
