Fred Aiken Writing

SUFFICE IT TO FIX IT

i stretch in private because
i’m not that limber

i stretch in private because
when i lift my arms above my head,
i’m embarrassed that my love handles are showing

i stretch in private
so that no one can see how stiff my body is,
how it creaks at the joints
without any rhythm

how my body doesn’t quite look like
a temple,
so much as it looks like a fixer upper
that no one wants to purchase
because it’s been on the market too long,
and has too many leaks,
too many corners cut during construction

but maybe stretching each day could fix something about my body,
if only i could remember

August 5, 2023

FORMLESS NAMES

the intimate inchoate form, formless, nascent names
ripping, violent jerks, through the hurricane’s grip,
while bouncing off a balancing pole across two buildings,
risk falling from the sky as the mother, a mother,
mother nature takes the city by the hand
and leads it to the precipice, right to the edge,
then push,
a quiet trip down the gravity well that ends in not such an unexpected way,
but we’ll say was, anyway,
a way

August 4, 2023

LET ME REST

when i’m gone,
don’t let no one profit from my death,

when i’m gone,
dump me off the side of the road,

let the buzzards eat me
cold or hot, i’m not picky

when i’m gone,
i don’t want none of that fanfare howdy-do-ya,

i’d like to be gone,
and rest