I Unfold Myself Tediously

I unfold myself tediously each morning 
As I would a scrap of wet crumpled paper.
My arthritic stiffness 
Reflects dimly the convoluted wrongness
Of my being---
And of yours---
This wrongness upon which limps 
Our corporate self.  
Is this finitude creaking in my joints
The voice of Ezekiel
Preaching to the bones
That they shall be raised up 
Out of this parched valley,
Their suppleness restored?
Or is it the voice of my Doctor 
Telling me to take aspirin 
Three times a day to reduce the swelling
Until such time as orthopedics can help no more?
This morning as I walked in the city
I saw a prophet preaching to the tulips
In a square of streets.
I could not hear his words.