Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Literally, My Neck by Jerry Durick

Literally, My Neck

I travel here and there at break neck speeds
stick my neck out when I must, and happily
recall when I could neck for hours on end, but
at times my neck can also become something
quite literal, literally that stem between my torso
and head, the vertebrae I’ve seen posed painfully
in x-rays, that DMZ I’ve counted on for years
the link I need to help me nod and turn my head
when someone who turns heads goes by, hold my
head up despite the circumstances, bow it when
I feel humbled, I’ve clothed it in neckties and
scarves, necklaces and chains, stretched it, hid it,
know I could hang by it, can stretch it too far
a guillotine awaits, my executioner tests his blade
sends this preview, this literal pain in the neck
that doesn’t go away, impervious to pills and
ready to follow me through my neck of the woods.

J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Social Justice Poetry, Tuck Magazine, Yellow Chair ReviewSynchronized Chaos, and Haikuniverse.

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