We always had hallowed our muscles -
to make them, fashion them.
Raise steel to men alone with barbel.
It rides on hands, naturally, but not.
Now we but see the regimen, exhausting our view.
Prance about steel, guarding machines,
trials, pressure, silence in force.
To the ceiling it flies, or less, and less to wear, we
stock for taking biceps for increments,
records to keep.
Retrieve in silence, close to spartan beds they
bellow, it lies, practicing force and steel.
Closing in on upper bodies, another day to wake
this tendon or that - supplied with renegades
harboring steel another day.
© 2013 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.