The Muscles

the muscles shrink
the fats bloom like fertilized flowers
uglier now
to the brain that does not stop thinking
to the feet that do not know already how to dance
to the abdomen that does not bend
what have you
when you look at yourself in the mirror
you become a denial
of your true nature
a freak ballooning on a baloney of
the future that does not bring you
a tray of fruits
a bouquet of flowers
but it has a gift for your handwork
a niche
and six feet under

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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