Friday, March 1, 2013

A Poem for March


We come into the world
and then go out the same,
incontinent. It isn’t supposed to be
like this, is it? I push you in a chair

and bend to tie your shoes.
Those were your jobs.
I used to ask why this, why that
and now that is you, asking

and then, not remembering
that I sat with you today.
We know why but we can’t
face it, that loss of sharpness,

that inability to maneuver.
Old age visits us now,  
an unexpected guest at the table
who came with gifts, yes,

but will not leave until
it has its way with you, with us;
making everything that ever
bothered me about you

multiplied a thousand times,
along with everything
I ever loved.

Lisa Vihos

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