These days my muscles are
snarled and kinked, are
drawn against bone and
bound with yellowing fascia.
Failures have hooked
the threaded tracts of fat,
drawing them away
in slippery white lengths.
Lean meat remains,
sinew twining like salted rope.
Within, the bones, they ache.
Calcium grinds against the constraint.
My flesh like candle wax sags
away from my drying frame.
These days I am all wick,
no tallow, and ready to burn.
Bonnie Rae Walker is a graduate of UCI, currently living in San Diego. She has been published in such journals as Red Paint Hill, Right Hand Pointing, Lady Literary, and Ink in Thirds.