Muscle Merry

A poem by Leon Wing

His Nike-ed and Hilfiger-socked feet
Pushing and being pushed upwards,
Knees drawing up and down in
Synch with the turning wheels which never
Go anyway, the man in less attire
Than would be allowed in office
Affirms this get up – he glances across
The floor, strewn with irons, last carefully
Abandoned in transports of buffed effort,
At the wall of reflection,
Liking the camber all over the limbs:
Yes, last Monday’s pain paid off powerfully.
Straightening his back, pecs pushed out for effect,
He looks up: the face laughs in acknowledgement -
He’s muscle merry!

© Leon Wing 2005


  1. bibliobibuli says

    Damn! I shoulda gone to the gym today! Am not at all muscle merry.

    Like the poem and a great subject.

    bibliobibuli says

    Leon - congrats on your review of In the Line of Beauty in The Star. Really enjoyed reading it.

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