Ode to muscles

Odes

I am asking for definition,

Let my body hate me

with every bounce, even more.

On the tips of my toes

— on the verge of collapse —

I breathe out CO2,

bend my body to an illegible question mark,

stretch my back like a paralyzed cat.

My belly dances, the music beats

like a hammer on my muscles.

Contracting, detracting, contracting,

retracting. The image of my body

glares from the mirror.

The aching begins,

a better version of me,

sooner than requested,

should be with you shortly.

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