The Sensuousness of the Wrecked Physique

Stretch and yawn, distressed companion,
All pins and scars and compromise.
You’re long past trying to attract
The attractive. How do you find

These little seams in your evenings,
These little threads through your mornings
When, cat-like, you can still slow-blink
And savor rolling on your back,

As if the Earth remained sun-warmed carpet,
Pile plush as moss, moonlit courtyard,
Stones soft as moths. You’ll be gone soon,
Soon enough, although much later

Than you expected, all those years
You absorbed stacks of accidents
Creating this cicatriced shell.
Be glad your wrecked flesh still responds

With pleasure when it pleasure finds,
In delights shivery as pools,
Followed by sun thumbing bare skin,
Followed by parting the clean sheets.