You Can’t Escape Yourself
You’re getting bald. You say “Damn!
Why was I born to a family
Where the men lose their hair,
And the women get thin on the top?”
Desperate to make it stop
You change shampoo,
Taking hormones, selenium. You
Are too scared. It’s those genes.
You read health magazines, trying means
That cost dearly.
You’re fifty-three;
Time clock and family tree,
Dastardly, bastardly, lasting past ancestry
Quietly share in your hair and declare
That you’re called to be bald.
Bow, yield, accept! It is strong to accept.
Type those poems! Edit works!
Write without fits and jerks!
Send those letters! Stay fit!
Stop that coffee… “Oh, shit!
Where is the energy so sorely needed,
With sleep and rest coming out best?
Why is the good that I would…and etcetera too,
Just exactly the bad that I do?
But I’ve strayed, lost the meter. The poem is delayed.
It’s free form and discipline’s pros-e-try bent;
A poem ex-patriot: eye-form with content.
Content with that we can come back in a while,
Selves and the moment are never escapable.
Cause and effect the creators, create.
It’s never too late. We can wait,
Drape our fates in the work,
And be glad for our lot.
©
You Can’t Escape Yourself 89.8.6/05.9.30/06.12.31/07.2.24I Is Always You Is We; Pure Nakedness; Nature In & Of Reality;
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;
Arlene Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 