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 ap...