Regressions

A heavy head bobs in rhythmic devotion, Eye lids flutter – kneecaps pop Chased by flares of fire climbing my left thigh, A tribute to years now of tumultuous nighttime. The internet diagnoses my flares as some typical syndrome, When the bone pokes the tendons, a literally thorn in the side. But how can I stop? Two pairs of clinging arms, two small heavy heads Refusing to drift off into The peaceful night Require my effort, my presence, my calm.