You are ember with less orange
You are tree bark true and brook trout at play
You are earthy as the hollow dell in the Catskills still
Turning as the waterways

You are ever moving, always slight
Looking back over those delicate shoulders of yours
To the footprints of me
And in the time spent therein not a day’s older

I don’t know her name
But I know what I see

i never understood,
until now,
the appeal of
dying old.
on a porch swing,
dog at my lap
brew to my right.

it seemed so
useless to me.
until i saw
the sun set
a second time.
i never catch
a first glance.
i grow fond
for a second look.

i am so tired
of the hawks
that are bound
to my chest with
wire pulling my
baby skin away
from me. i am
too scared to
let them leave
my sight.

i have kept
fright inside for
too long. i
thought i had
something to lose
but that already
left too.

all the
good things
in life have
somewhere to be

and i am
in my childhood
bedroom weaning
off the milk.
writing poems
for no one.
for myself.

Today she gave her last ****, her last care
Watch as she dangles and dances in air
Better watch closely, better watch fast
It will be over as quickly as a glance

©Pauline Russell