Poetry of Issue #7        Page 18

IN THE GYM

I count the seconds
until I can put down the weight.
It’s not a heavy weight,
but it strains my arm
as I lie on a bench
with the barbell dangling
behind my head.

I watch the second hand
on the wall clock,
trying to breathe regularly,
trying not to think of how many seconds
remain until a minute is up.
And when the minute passes,
I’ll hold the weight for five more seconds.

I know my arm will feel better
after this exercise
that feels more like torture.
This practice will rehabilitate my shoulder
will loosen and strengthen the place
where ball meets socket.
I like pain, but only certain kinds,
and this isn’t the right kind.

  Thaddeus Rutkowski