Disposable Poetry

I catch a toe
on the bedside table

For a moment
the pain brings a
rush

Then a loud burst
of sound

This is what it is to feel
like a fragile old goat

In the end
no matter how
crafty you are
or how many books
you read

You’re still just a mess
of nerves and fleshy parts
constantly being reminded
what it means to be human

(D. James)