Looking At My Right Arm
Night after night, book in hand,
I see the arm,
And I’m
Astonished and perplexed.
I cannot climb inside
The aging mind of my right arm
To find out what it’s thinking
When a wrinkling
(That did not exist the night before)
Arrests the eye.
Or am I
self-deceptive,
Non-attentive?
Muscle doesn’t waste away
Over a night.
Something’s withering,
(Lovely sound – alarming word)
Shriveling and wasting.
I remember being young,
Those crepey ladies…“how repulsive”
On my brain-tongue.
Never
in my wildest dreams… yet
Here in bed examining,
Accepting, yes, consenting!
It is me!
I like the self I am and I agree
To what I see.
Looking At My Right Arm 5.18.2011
Pure Nakedness; Circling Round Wrinkles;
Arlene Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 