Old age
I’m old
Not in full, but it has arrived.
Far away the backyards of childhood,
the smiles of dead uncles.
With my memory’s sponge saturated,
I type stories on unplugged keyboards,
my life surrounded by blunder.
I pronounce home, brother, tree,
hemisphere,
tribe, lemur, global economy,
hydroelectric, grasshoppers and all of them hurt.
Their network of arms and wires and roots are embedded in me.
Merged into their tangle,
my nervous system is hacked.
Between the pain and the clumsiness
I repeat to myself: What will I do?
and -without hesitation- respond
the clouds with clouds
the first star of the night with a wink.
Liked or faved by...
