Something of Pain

I have been, until very recently, experiencing a tremendous deal of pain in my knee, caused by what, I don't know. It now only afflicts me marginally, thankfully, but it had besot me with such discomfiture that it became present at all times, every day, and mid repose I wrote this.

I sit here

quite contentedly,

nursing the sore

of my knee.

Though it's pained me

for weeks

through the wet and

the heat

its origin remains

yet unknown-

it's a lingering guest,

a nuisance,

a pest,

that drives me

from house

back to home

and a tender touch

is a touch too much

like a frost

that thaws

in my bones.

Having read Bulgakov,

it reminds me of

the Devil, who fell

off the throne;

who keeps his leg straight

to ease off the ache

and so sits

remarkably low.