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old bones
by Jim Benzwhen you touch me
It feels like whiskey
on my tongue
at the back of my throat
burning in my gullet
I feel
as if I'm seven again
before all the bad stuff
happens
and my gear box
grinds itself
into a mess
of loose screws
but don't be mistaken
you're a good thing
like Professor Longhair
pounding out a ragged
rumba
bloody, lived-in elegance
but
it's late
too late
I feel rheumatic
locked in a vice grip
I can hardly
move
let alone thrust
I blame the bastards
lurking in my genes
fooling around
in the graveyard
digging up bones
just to smash them 04/22/2006 Author's Note: soon to be published in Spry Magazine
Posted on 04/22/2006
Copyright © 2026 Jim Benz
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 04/22/06 at 06:03 AM I'll drink to this and raise you seven... |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/22/06 at 02:32 PM Ok, this touches just a bit too close too home as I can feel the loose screws and the vice that keeps tightening its grip on this aging body. That this person's touch makes you feel like you are seven again is wonderful. |
| Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 04/24/06 at 01:51 PM painfully real and brilliant writing. |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 04/25/06 at 12:46 AM oooh, i like this --- a little too broken up for me but some great lines and evoked images. Well done! |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 04/26/06 at 04:57 AM Hi Jim. This backs right up to the ledge of edgy,
but it's all that vivid imagery that give this poem its success. Thanks. |
| Posted by Nicole Assenza on 05/01/06 at 03:29 AM Me likey. |
| Posted by Paganini Jones on 08/17/10 at 01:12 PM Excellent poem. Sadly I empathise too much :) Ouch! |
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