an oneirological osteopathy

it might have been
an onset
might have heralded an end
or a beginning

but the ache as I arose
was just the touch of bones
re-setting into grooves
that they have patterned
through all movements in their life

yet an image rose
complete and uninvited
of a bent and wizened frame
supporting a vague familiar
in the facial profile
a grotesque in the shape

I feel myself
on chilly mornings
curling along an arc
that points the head towards the feet
the floor
rise up to meet me
at some brittle point
that grinds and squeals

bone powdering to dust
flesh twisted more to sinew
gripping tight
to hold at bay the bow
whose signals says

all is lost

but the act of standing straight
puts paid to bends and irritations
accumulated in the night
doubts flocked to scream
like ghouls in fearful dream

the mirror after all
reveals only what I choose to view
and I am tall today
limber and unbent

while the aching of my night
is relegated to a scary tale
to haunt the toss and turn
in restless dreams
all fears of coming frailties

© Frank Prem, 2009


5 thoughts on “an oneirological osteopathy

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