Unbowed

Time compresses
like my vertebra
less height
less life

My spine grows smaller
as my time grows shorter

The straight and true 

becomes the hooked and crooked 

and 

when I should be running 

I can barely find the will to hobble 

Strong backs 

are wasted on the young 

when it’s nearing the end 

one needs to be most upright 

April 4, 2020 

Day 4 of 30

National Global Poetry Writing Month

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