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.”