Taut

Like fabric bleached out by

the harsh southern suns,

fibres weak and lax –

a body without the taut, tight

bounce of “new”

A dull, slow exhaustion lies

at the base of my skull

spreading eager fingers down my neck

and pounding, grinding heels into the

space that is me

And the energy leaches

out through the frayed

edges of my mind;

drifting away like so much sand

in a desolate land