120918b

Phantoms

A quad’s troubled by them;

From the terra incognita below my nipples,

Reliable reports come in from my stomach:

Hunger, repletion, nausea;

All else is fake news.

When I bump my knee,

Or seem to,

There is an ache,

Almost a sharp pain,

Where kneecap resides,

Doctor says this heralds nothing,

Much less the return of true sensation.

Sometimes my nether limbs

Send reports of movement;

All false,

As my eyes inform me.

Everything,

These 14 post-traumatic years:

Lies, lies, lies,

Unpleasant ones at that,

Pain or discomfort,

Never a good feeling.

But finally,

What I’ve been dreaming of

Has come to pass:

Stirrings from...down there,

The feeling a man gets,

As he begins to rise,

Faint, but exhilarating,

Unreal, but I don’t care.

Actually, I do,

This long-awaited blessing

Brings hope,

And now I wonder--

What stumbles me-ward

From that undiscovered country?