We are at War-- this Body and this Mind!
The innocent victims are the three of us-- ME, MYSELF, and I.
I'm afraid it is a War unto the death, and there will be
no cease-fire, no cozy compromises, no surrender;
I forsee no treaties signed with golden pens.

I predict bloody battles, scurrying skirmishes,
diminished days, neuropathic nights with endless hours
of screaming silence dragging darkness
on a leaden weight till dawn.

At first I thought this was a small rebellion, easily quelled;
the message reached us loud and clear--
the feet just would not stand for any more.
I thought perhaps the years they'd spent
in cramped dark prisons might have sparked
their gripe-- but, hey, we are all in prisons of some kind!

Eventually the hands joined in to make their grievances known.
They've staged a slowdown-- take their good old time
to button, snap, or thread a needle, tie a shoe.
Child-proof caps especially, arouse their ire.

These rebels have enlisted other Body troops:
the eyes refuse to work unless we bribe them--
clear sparkling windows right up front.
The back is rigid with demands and will not bend
except in dire emergencies-- and even then
insists on a generous ration of acetemetaphin.

For sure this is a War! The Mind says, "Yes you will!"
The Body says, "I won't!" and ME, MYSELF, and I
sigh, shudder, wonder how long the War will last,-- who will win.
The Brain, Command Post of the Mind, won't give up.
It watches radar for a blip-- a fluttering--
some sign that the Dove of Peace is hovering.
But no surrender! Not now! Not tomorrow! Not ever!

© Ann Gasser, Pennsylvania/USA 2000