Great Ugly Motion

you lift
your head and the world
swims about, chanting
its snide song and relieving
itself in the gutter
of your troweled
mind, digging in

your elbow feels
so far away as you apply to it
the weight of an entire
world, knowing
no strength, heaving
the last of your blood
into action

your bed
smells like your bed,
suddenly exhausting,
fettered
by the cheap company
you keep for yourself,
changing

in one great ugly motion
into your life,
a remnant
of the larger tapestry
of events as events
and your need to speak
a broken thread

11-22-95