all that paper skin circling the eyes
gives in first, it claws its way
from the corners as time marches
its trumpets over your dermis
get cool with the crumbling
temple, or get obsessed
temple, or get obsessed
with tighteners and tossed treasure
to see yourself swimming
in the fountain at a city square
where women emerge uncracked
to see yourself swimming
in the fountain at a city square
where women emerge uncracked
surgeons applaud their faces
with dotted lines, marvelous
with dotted lines, marvelous
one suspects it’s a fine line
between bloom and reborn
no stem-cell serum
can remove
your scars, which are
the body’s memory
can remove
your scars, which are
the body’s memory
it’s not like you
can massage a filler
into the crevices and forget
the profound sorrow
in a rejuvenated wrinkle
______________________
Friday Writing #204: The most expensive garment
I am most drawn by the second to last stanza. I think a lot of people wish it could be as easy as rubbing in a filler and forgetting. But memories are what make us, well, us. At least I think they're a big part of it. I wouldn't want to spackle that away.
ReplyDeleteI love how the scars are the memories of the body and I agree with Rommy. The body is just a vehicle and hopefully its still going for a while.
ReplyDeleteThat title sets the scene! All very well said.
ReplyDeleteMy vanity would like to pull up my double chin and sagging cheeks!
ReplyDeleteYour poem reminds me that this is me.
Let the cracks and wrinkles show you have experienced life
ReplyDelete