Coiled on the floor
my Straight-Out Strap®
is a green snake
that doesn’t bite.
I loop its tongue around my foot
and pull its scaly skin
till my hamstrings
contract and relax.
And now I’m on my feet
one hand behind my knotted back
the other by my locked shoulder:
contract and relax
back and forth
like a two-man saw.
She loves me not..she loves me
contract and relax.
Back bolt upright
when I pull up, I think pull down
when I pull down, I think pull up
contract and relax.
“You’re flexible,” noted my old rigid anal boss.
“You take correction well.”
Investing in loss, I’ve had to knuckle under
contract and relax.
O green and rough-woven SOS,
you slither and release my stress.
I’m toiling and moiling in your ten loops:
contract and relax.
Postscript
I’m pushing against this ode.
Not exactly feeling Keatsy
No melancholy happy overwrought ecstasy.
No Truth or Beauty.
Put the pencil down–
Wrap up the SOS–
Tell my therapist Tracy–
ten fingers tattooed knuckles-to-knuckles with bicycle chain links–
“I’m done.”
”But you were doing so well.”
”I can’t contract or relax.”
“I like it when you struggle.”