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It may not be the bearded man
who smiles at you and explodes.
It may not be the errant tyre
that slides on the icy roads.
It may not be the scaffolding plank
that bounces on your head.
It may not be pneumonia
that smothers you in bed.
It may not be the fever
that creeps through blood and vein.
Or the quiet worm in the sole of your foot
that climbs up to your brain.
It may be that the breath leaks out
in a mist of expiring pain
and nothing can make it turn about
and slide back in again.
Ready?
poem by Brian Taylor
Added by Poetry Lover
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