The sore spot spreads,
goes deep, no longer
localized. An ache.
Bones in the spine
grind down.
Short of breath
the frame collap-
ses, its structure
in shambles.
Synapses fire
on all cylinders,
the clang
of combustible air
a hammer, its blue
exhaust exhausting.
The brain burns hot
as vines, or veins,
the red gone black.
The mind wanders,
sails to an island
of pain in a sea
of indifference,
wonders at the novelty
of this distress,
the body gone blank
as the blank page.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 25, Issue 2.
Wyn Cooper has published five books of poetry, including, most recently, Mars Poetica. His poems, stories, essays, and reviews have appeared in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Poetry, as well as in 25 anthologies of contemporary poetry. Many of his poems have been turned into songs, including by recording artists Sheryl Crow, David Broza, and Madison Smartt Bell. He is a former editor of Quarterly West, and the recipient of a fellowship from the Ucross Foundation. His first novel, Way Out West, was published in 2022. He lives in Vermont, and works as a freelance editor. www.wyncooper.com
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