Friday, July 15, 2016

On My Right Elbow

I have no memory of growing old,
But now the mirror says my hair is grey,
And there are afternoons my legs give way.
Sometimes I find my fingers have grown cold,
My brow is hot, and as the days unfold
The aches expand, up from my feet of clay
To my eyelashes, and my muscles say
It's time to check for pressure marks and mould.

What I remember is the way I felt,
The way we danced, the way we got along,
Intrepid, standing tall, unbowed and strong,
But I awoke this morning with a welt
On my right elbow, and my heart was dealt
A sudden blow. I knew something was wrong.

Friday, July 08, 2016


I'm waiting in the waiting room. I wait
Because they told me to. They told me to
So I complied, but when this day is through
I'll stop complying: I will complicate,
Infer, touch wood. I'll make you contemplate
The suffering of others who, like you,
Like everything unspoiled, untouched, make do.
I'm spoiling for a fight; you are distrait.

Tomorrow, everything will be so sweet
That you and I will sing, praising the dawn
And hailing all those brilliant stars that shone
To shame the night. To make our song complete,
Bright notes will rise from potholes in the street.
Next week, all imperfection will be gone.