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Within Range

It is in visible, the range,

between the infra, ultra waves,

though rays beyond the human eye,

radio, gamma, micro, X.

So what the light that I reflect -

what spectrum is it I exude,

illumination, candlepower,

lighthouse in spin, blink on and off?

I cannot cloak my Parkinson’s -

invisibility on tap -

determined terms that dominate,

unless some symptoms medicate -

the calmer quiver, further walk,

a better sleep, pills and a glass.

Few see exhausted energy,

insomnia of early hours,

the joints I roll - a vape puff helps -

slide scapula - sounds mafia -

sup tonic, quinine bubbles up.

They cheer, drag racing on the track,

as I play ball to bridge the gap,

both heel and toe, like synchromesh,

attempt, engage first gear at least.

Some give me stick that carry mine,

a tightrope walker balance pole -

feel ferule cat stuck up a tree -

as concentrate to keep in line,

stare pathway, sole on pilgrimage.

Previously published by The Quiver

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