a poem in free verse.
Today we talked about pain,
pain and its friends and cousins
its brothers and sisters and mothers.
Today we talked about pain.
We talked about how pain
is the little silver ball
inside the pinball machine of my body,
traveling and ricocheting,
sometimes with reason, sometimes not.
Every day I’m filled with quarters, quarters,
extra quarters and overtimes.
The machine may defined by the ball,
the maze, the pieces,
but I am still the player,
and I am still in control.