Poem by Mark Tulin
My whole life is bound to the chair,
but I still recite my verses and rhymes.
I still share myself with the passersby
and face each day with a lyrical hope.
My life may be contained to a chair,
but I don’t let the straps hold me back.
My faith is powered by a 12-volt battery.
I throttle my movement with awkward grace.
My chair has become an appendage
like a protective family member.
All that I own and care about
is attached like cargo to the back of a bus.
My life may be stuck in neutral,
and my head forever cocked to the side.
My adhesive bag may be bursting full
and my muscles shaking in a Palsy spaz.
But I still have my words to read.
I still have my poetry.
About the Poet
Mark Tulin is a retired family therapist who lives in Santa Barbara, California. His stories and poetry are published in Friday Flash Fiction, Amethyst Review, smokebox, Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, The Drabble, Cabinet of Heed and others. His poetry chapbook is called, Magical Yogis, and his website is Crow On The Wire.