O floater in my eye, curlicue that darts away from direct gaze: On my lover a traveling beauty spot on her face then chest, thigh and foot. A wingless bug buzzless in my periphery ascending to escape my swiping hand. Zigzags across bright sky like an ellipsis of miniature migrating birds.
O mundane scars: Teenage acne craters more recently camouflaged by wrinkles. A staple-stamped incision - - - beneath its dashes, mesh holding my weakened guts in check.
O body constellations... Probed yearly by an orbit of physicians, my aging universe continues its trajectory: Connecting the astronomical count of dots – brown moles, skin tags, cherry angiomas – reveals the sagging Hunter on my torso, mild Boar nearby, misshapen Horned Goat below.
David A. Goodrum, writer/photographer, lives in Corvallis, Oregon. His work has appeared in Tar River Poetry, The Inflectionist Review, Passengers Journal, Scapegoat Review, Triggerfish Critical Review, Tampa Review, among others. Other publications include a chapbook, Sparse Poetica (Audience Askew, 12/2023), and a book, Vitals and Other Signs of Life (The Poetry Box, 6/2024).
