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

Fiston Mwanza Mujila

Immigrants in Years 2070, 2081, and 2097 Must Furnish the Following Documents

FISTON MWANZA MUJILA
certificate of death / sperm samples / fingerprints // date of birth / first name, last name, post-name, nicknames, aliases, sobriquets / spare first and last names just in case… // head circumference / marital status, house-broken status, bastard-status / age / length of brow ridge...

Image of smoke

November 2019 Poetry Feature: Ron Welburn

RON WELBURN
Timucuans know tobacco smoke carries prayers to our Creator. Prayers of smoke. Teaching the how of smoking is external, lumbar, digital, objective. To convert us to Gospel, let’s swap for a while, talk it over. We’re teaching you how to smoke so you will learn how to pray.

hayloft

Choosing a Transitional Object

LUIZA FLYNN GOODLETT
Snip Hansons from Teen Beat while debating / Taylor versus Zac so passionately a curl escapes / its barrette and your best friend tucks it behind / an ear before it catches on lip-gloss. Start a fight / so she’ll get picked up early, forgetting a lanyard / on the den’s yellow shag.