Allison Joseph

Ghazal: In the Flesh



Sometimes I hate the feeling of flesh;
the frank and utter ceiling of flesh.

The cops turn their eyes away—
the deathly scary dealings of flesh.

A cover up in place, you hope to thwart
the sun’s unsightly peeling of flesh.

Those grade school children free on break
make such a bloody squealing of flesh!

Disasters bring torment and rain:
who will survive this reeling of flesh?

Can I survive these signs of stroke?
This stealthy ghastly stealing of flesh?

Another mile of mountain pilgrimage.
I’m hoping for a healing of flesh!

Better to stand than genuflect.
My bones can’t take the kneeling of flesh.

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