August 24, 2011

Make It So


Light LA Rail.


I was able to do some small, lite things yesterday. Dentist, store, read a book…or was that unthinkingly skim a book. At some point, I now feel I will be over this lite cold. Frankly, I’m being grumpy about losing this week to a virus. You can see me stamping my foot and acting like a two year old about this. When I’m awake. At least I’m not sharing it.

The last poem I wrote before getting fuzzy is this one I share with you. Not my best at all, but it’s lite content for the journal.




Make It So

Unthinkingly we accept ourselves, then
one day we see our skins for the first time;
the first wrinkle, the first texture, wart, lump,
bump and sag. Sometimes we lose weight and all

our skins need renewal. Our houses don’t
fit, our pants fall off, we can’t reach the brakes
in our cars, and our comfortable worlds have
vanished, so we think. Later we note how

our taut stomachs now reach for our thighs while
we peel and crack hunting for our lost words
those fronts and facades for who we once were.
Now often baring our souls instead of

being polite, our epidermally
challenged selves thicken the camouflage.

9 comments:

  1. I had a filling replaced a month ago and have been fighting some sinus and throat infection since. Finally went to the Doctor who said he could not see anything but would give me antibiotics if I felt I needed them, and instead I am trying the saline nasal spray and antibacterial mouthwash for a week.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am very suspicious of any doctor who will prescribe antibiotics without knowing whether there is a bacterial infection that will respond to them. You do better treating the symptoms without the prescription.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I like the poem....I like the visuals I got from thinking about the words..."taut stomachs now reach for our thighs"....oh yes!

    ReplyDelete
  4. You certainly have a way with words, darlin'!

    ReplyDelete
  5. The poem reminds me of a dream sequence where everything is thwarted. I like the pace.

    ReplyDelete
  6. You go ahead and stomp your foot and be petulant all you want!!!

    And your poem is far from 'lite'. You are so articulate!!!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Beautiful!!!!

    This really touched me!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Maggie I read you every day even though I am not blogging much anymore. You always give me something to think about. I loved your poem. It is honest and wistful. I want to remember that I am not my body now any more than I was my body at any other age in my life. My soul does not sag. My camouflaged soul does not catch colds.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Hi Maggie! -- Thanks -- we're still taking precautions, but are really inland - about an hour west of the Chesapeake Bay. I'm glad I'm not at the Jersey Shore or in NYC or Long Island! We'll keep you posted.

    ReplyDelete

postcards

Celebration of Life