Poem of the Week #121

The Same and Different

A year from now I will be
different. Will I be shorter?
Having long passed the age
and rage of puberty,
I certainly will not be taller.

But I might be larger—no,
not fatter, at least I hope not fatter.
I am just fat enough right now.
Curved and muscled, just right.
Well, I could lose 15 pounds.

For sure, all my outer skin cells
will be replaced. Lots of hair
will fall out and more will appear;
most of it in places I don’t want it.
My nails will grow, crack,

and be trimmed weekly. Plaque
will adhere to my teeth and then
dutifully be scraped away
by the dental hygienist.
How often do you floss?

Ear wax will form and melt.
I pray that any difference I exhibit
will be internal, metaphysical.
I want to be deeper, wider,
more complex, and yet,

simpler. I want to be
more connected to the earth
and to the rhythm of sun
and sea; made sturdier by wind
and pelting rain. I want to be

kinder; toward me, toward you.
Like the same river into which
you cannot step twice, I want
you to know I will still tumble
and flow. Me—just different.

Lisa Vihos