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.
