Philoctetes at the Physio

By U. S. DHUGA 

No compunction, my physiotherapist

Exits, kale juice in hand, the Raw Chemist

 

With the swagger of a Neoptolemus

Who will lie to me, to you, to all of us

 

For the sake of winning what he mythifies

As our battle. I watch him pause, flex his thighs,

 

Draw a single, surreptitious Pall Mall

(Menthol-filtered) from his Nike carryall.

 

I tighten the brace back round my ankle

Wondering if and when we’re setting sail.

 

Today the greaved pain is barely bearable.

Not so my personnel.

 

[Purchase Issue 13 here]

U. S. Dhuga’s new book is The Sight of a Goose Going Barefoot.

 

Philoctetes at the Physio

Related Posts

The parthenon in Nashville

March 2024 Poetry Feature: New Poems by Our Contributors

MATT DONOVAN
On my flight to Nashville, after / telling me the Parthenon in his town was far better / than the one in Greece, the guy seated beside me / in the exit row swore that Athena was an absolute / can’t-miss must-see. Her eyes will see into your soul, / he said, no goddamn joke.

picture of a bible opened up

February 2024 Poetry Feature

CORTNEY LAMAR CHARLESTON
There was tear gas deployed without a tear. There were / rubber bullets fired from weapons that also fire lethal rounds. There were / armored vehicles steering through the streets of the capital that stars our maps. // What we saw was only new to the people it was new to.

Headshot of Anne Pierson Wiese

Sharp Shadows

ANNE PIERSON WIESE
On our kitchen wall at a certain time / of year appeared what we called the sharp / shadows. / A slant of western light found / its way through the brown moult of fire / escape hanging on to our Brooklyn rental / building for dear life and etched replicas / of everything