Poetry by Brian Christopher Giddens
How the body aches in the morning.
But what to do? Bed needs making,
dog wants walking, and garbage
overflows the bin. Life continues
even when the body wants to stay
inert, warm under the covers, listening
to the radio alarm, always set to NPR,
sharing stories about all the busy
people creating chaos around us.
Like an old dog, the corpus needs
nudging, as “no” isn’t an answer.
Things move slower, the world
spins faster, but the movements,
memorized, fall into place. With
a wince and a wobble, rusted
and ragged, the ship still sails.
Brian Christopher Giddens writes fiction and poetry from his home in Seattle, where he lives with his husband, and Jasper the dog. Brian’s writing has been featured in The New York Times (Tiny Love Stories), Passager, The Bluebird Word, Rabble Review, Hyacinth Review, Roi Faineant, Amazine, Glimpse, and other publications.
