Picture each hurting part—joint, organ, muscle—
as aluminum foil ripped wrong, and buckled in a fist.
Then depict the cold and jagged stars flattened
each by the iron, wrinkle by wrinkle smooth.
I’ve tried that one. Here’s another I made: knots
at my hips, knees, neck, womb, and hands, curled
to snarling. Then I pretend I’ve soaked each lock
a time, so I can gingerly comb myself out.
The work is to picture what you’re really feeling,
then imagine the opposite and hope it moves.
Be—you could try it—the other way around
before coming back to the same old body
as a traveler who very much meant to leave
goes home anyway, is anyway relieved.