365 Poems/108 Making Progress (Rough First Draft)
You say I am more beautiful today
than I was at twenty, and there is
a powerful half-second where my
reaction could go either way.
My thoughts are my biggest distraction,
and they haul me, from this moment,
like a farmer slinging bag after bag
of potatoes onto a trailer.
I feel like everybody is laughing at me,
even September with her beautiful
amber skirts, and fresh breath.
You tell me that altogether I make up
something important, and that sitting up
straight isn’t the only way I can look after myself.
And though I may not believe it right now,
I have the same needs as everyone else,
light, wheat, love, sleep and a painless death.