We're all wearing straitjackets

Whether from madness or not

For nature has us by the balls

From our swaddling in the cot

The past is a potent constraint

Not canvas and straps of leather

It dictates what's a personality

By a life-long, iron-clad tether

Shackles of love and desire are

Merciless in their subtle grip

Marriage ties bind us with ropes

No hide-b...

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gnarly fingers
veil his face,
skin thin and crusty
at spots:
splotched parchment
of years in the sun

water
cascades
from his forehead to
his chin
then meets gravity;
raindrops

through his soil-grimed
singlet, jeans and boots;
hours of toil
simmer away
in rivulets
of forgetfulness.




`

Photo by Eric Kaufman, NC

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