Arlene Corwin Poetry

                 Gone

It isn’t that I was beautiful,

But youth has beauty

Grounded in the supple;

Muscle tone, proportions

Lip to nose,

Waist/hips,

Shortened, lengthened, thickened –

Gone.

The elasticity, the cheekbone

With its hostile lines

That droop the jaw down

Through the neck.

Not the loss

But changes [to the]

Peers, me, us –

My generation aging,

Dying, disappearing.

Knowledge which, though solace

Craves an answer ring

That hasn’t come.

© Gone 10.23.2008

Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Vanities;

Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Wrinkles; I Is Always You Is We; Time;

Arlene Corwin