It is in visible, the range,
between the infra, ultra waves,
though rays beyond the human eye,
radio, gamma, micro, X.
So what the light that I reflect –
what spectrum is it I exude,
lighthouse in spin, blink on and off?
I cannot cloak my Parkinson’s –
invisibility on tap –
determined terms that dominate,
unless some symptoms medicate –
the calmer quiver, further walk,
a better sleep, pills and a glass.
Few see exhausted energy,
insomnia of early hours,
the joints I roll – a vape puff helps –
slide scapula – sounds mafia –
sup tonic, quinine bubbles up.
They cheer, drag racing on the track,
as I play ball to bridge the gap,
both heel and toe, like synchromesh,
attempt, engage first gear at least.
Some give me stick that carry mine,
a tightrope walker balance pole –
feel ferule cat stuck up a tree –
as concentrate to keep in line,
stare pathway, sole on pilgrimage.
Used by permission of the author.