Poetry, October 2020.

---

An ache
In my ankle
Weakness
In my wrist
Sensitive teeth
And tingling fingers
Tiny pains and tiny problems
Taking their turns
To spin tales of my future
When the ache will rise into my hips
When my hands will curl into witchy claws
When weakness will coil around my spine and,
If my teeth hang on for the ride,
They’ll ache along with the rest of my bones
To be free of this senseless skin.