It’s All About Mike

When rusted-nausea rises,
before you and the sun,

when you sweat-in-sleep,
and wake an old woman,

when stood your bones jar,
as if dropped-from-height,

when you carpet-shuffle,
dancing Ali’s last fight,

when bending to tug on socks,
and your arced back burns,

when squatted to the loo,
thighs-cry, grimaced gurns,

when pained to turn
to butt-wipe and follow-through,

that time, your ill-words, reversed..
it will then be about You.