ISSUE 4: SUMMER 2016 / POETRY

“How Was Work?” by Rex Butters

BY REX BUTTERS

like hot knives and needles
stabbing flames of pain
flash through my foot
strangle my ankle
swollen in my sock
bone knobs drowned in edema
red raw open sores
and hard scabby necrotic tissue
keep me home
keep me seated
keep me on ice
wide world narrowed to tiny screaming nerve ends
achilles tendonitis nails me
forces me to bend
as I smile and make change
stock shelves/bag groceries and fetch
parking lot carts
laugh convincingly as I limp
through another night’s work
eye on the clock
scorched and blind


Rex Butters has drifted up and down the West Coast. He’s published in many different papers, magazines, journals, and anthologies. He currently resides in San Marcos, Ca., where Ike Turner died.

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