I sit with the sweet pain 
Of remonstrating muscles 
Aching tendons 
It’s been a good day 
I’ve clocked my vital number
Of steps again 
Day Eight. Eight days. Day Eight
Of doing my best 
The precious little victories  
Sit like shiny safety pins 
In my body. Their lancing points 
Glimmering. Abrading. Wounding 
Forcing tiny trickles of red-hot plasma
To run outside my veins 
In the sweet agony of pain 
Reminding me that I’m still alive
I’m still surviving, still striving
Still clocking all the steps 
That keep this life ongoing
Going on. Ongoing. Going on 
I breathe in deeply. Tonight 
I am serene, there will be no dreams 
To torture or torment me. Tonight 
In Sleep’s benumbing arms
I will lay down my head
I breathe out, uncoil, soft-ache-bound
As I sink into the swelling seams of my bed.