Body-Bind

Roped from the arm to the tight belly-not
A thought or two worries at the end-fray
Dreadful, weedling thought, misting me over:
"Won't you try?" Wont. Can't do it today.

Instead I'll die with the word on and in me
Ferocious, damning should should should should should
And my scolding, Mother-brain cry-shouting:
"Why resent what's bound to do you good??"


~Tam~