All my troubles seem to melt away as I explore all the nooks and crannies,
highways and byways of the tangled sinews in the muscles on your back .
The knots block your habitual flow of energy locked in your angel wings.
My fingertips know the way as if they were reading braille.
They burrow through each clogged corpuscle like a spirochete
clearing out the muscles wrapped around your spine.
Tightened muscles release like a caterpillar giving birth to a butterfly.
A blast of bullfrogs croaking warns me to get out of the way,
but a friendly copperhead waves me forward as I release cords that bind you.
My fingers do the walking and talking to blind nematodes who get in the way.
You breathe freely again—I can almost see the invisible night stars shine a light
on your sleeping smiling face.