Hollow Bones

Walking perpendicular today,

folded over,

unhinged again by gluten,

shredded within.

Tired, insanely tired,
sinking-weak in the bones
as though they were

hollow.

When will acceptance take root?

When they remedy the

toxic fraction

of the gluten molecule,

when they make a pill

to bypass it --

or before?

The rise and fall of breathing

aches, pulls,
smarts through the middle,
neck blotchy, itchy red . . .

and you would think by now
I would have learned,

would have bothered to believe

(despite the denial of doubters)

that some lives really require 

abstinence

from gluten.

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