This plane I’m on
is falling to earth,
and I’m still growing.
This train I’m on
is swerving from the track,
and I’m still growing.
This car I’m in
is aimed at the wall,
and I’m still growing.
The needle
and the hot shot are waiting,
and I’m still growing.
The bullet and the knife
are prepared,
and I’m still growing.
How clogged I’m becoming
from poisonous food.
I’m still growing.
How angry the liver,
how broken the aorta.
I’m still growing.
If I fade into the couch
and stop moving today,
I’ll still be growing
until all the hair and nails
and bones and fat cells and organs
decide to call a strike.
This body is
unfinished business
until it decides otherwise.

December 28th, 2010 at 12:50 pm
Deep.
December 28th, 2010 at 12:53 pm
Thanks.