The Massage

The Massage


The old seafarer
sea bound and haggard
upon the water
creaking in danger
muscle relaxants
and topical oils
away from the loved ones
covered in boils.


Starchy hard fabric
bundled and held
scratching and tearing
never once did he tell.


Left off for years
never came home
till letters received
years to late and unknown.


He found it one day
in the papers he hid
he read it once back then
then locked the tight light


Now the message it spoke of
spoke of the way.


So he packed
and he drove
on the water
to home.


Opening the door
to all that he left
was one left behind
waiting patiently in bed.


So the man then unrobed
slowly undoing his clothes
and dropped them right down
callouses on the ground.


He got right in
to the clean covered sheets
and the one right beside him
straddled right on top of him.


Then they pulled out the oil
lathered their hands
and pushed firmly down
on the small of the back
and cracks that had formed
started to break
but the form they created
was never defeated.


He was the man that he was
nothing could change it
and he started to weep
because the pain was descending.


Nothing to change
only take away pain
and the man finally got
the message.


-Matthew Koutzun