Progress

Baby steps,
Insufficient in a mind’s eye,
Steep steps surrendered on,
Every inch an obstacle,
Though this electric aggravation has abated some.

Progress,
At least feeling has returned mostly,
Progress,
At least I can stand on toes again,
Progress,
The constant stretching counterpoint has made flexibility easier.

Memory,
Less obsessive over scuba,
Where the guide would have rather you tugged on sea cucumber than some starfish,
Less hurt by the holidays
Where other names came more easily to lips than mine though my mouth and fingers and my cock were the sources of your apex expressions,
“No one loves me the way that you do,
You’re out of sight.”

Absence makes the heart become fodder,
Wood chip mulch this muscle into meal,
Cast it on this garden growing,
Perhaps these peppers will have more use for it,
These peas to dispossess some princess from her comfort,
Climb down from her mattress and find her own happiness sans prince,
Sans castle, find bliss in backpacking and tents on the ground,
With hunger and uncertainty,
O, to cherish what is had
Instead of yearning for fancies unfulfilling.

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