Hummingbirds of the Involuntary System
       

A tapestry of snakes and vines,
Tendrils that wind like blue rivers
Through the landscape of the body.
Small canoes with sensational cargoes,
Wicker baskets of fruit and flowers.
The fibers of motion quiver, hummingbirds
Of the involuntary system. Numbness attends
Injury, the godmother of healing, until the
Nerves awaken like wolves to howl
Down a crescent moon.
Relapsing disease unsheaths the
Silver bullets spilling into dust
And no one is safe now. The spinal cord
Severed as the rider falls, all spotlights
Flickering and failing. A dark and snowbound
Dwelling. Think of the woman who finally cracks
Like bad plaster, arroyos of despair. The outdated
Diagnosis: nervous breakdown: the blown fuses
Sparking and shutting down. Hair
Wild with neglect and eyes claret
With premonition.

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Copyright © 2016 Joan Colby All rights reserved
from Ribcage
Glass Lyre Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission