Arlene Corwin Poetry

     Leaving Sixty-Six

In two more months

I leave this year;

But not without an almost-tear –

Parts run-to-seed,

Worn,

Torn

Between incoming day

When I was born,

And rushing opposition .

Two more months of basking in

The double six now closing in

And catching up on seven.

Will it have its compensations

Now that death, more palpable in seven

Points a finger out towards heaven?

Six

Became a bag of tricks:

How to fool retired, hidden growth hormone

To strengthen bone

By lifting two small weights each day;

Less caffeine, knee bends.

Not bad.

It threw the brain into new play:

Computer knowledge on its way;

Resolve more fixed:

Determination without

Silly desperation, hesitation,

Pro-con-pro, yes, yes, no,

Not bad with hints and glints

Of new beginnings. Trends

Coupled to ends.

Sixty-six to sixty-seven:

More continuum, more chain,

More stairways up,

More circles closing,

More a break through pain

Originating in the brain;

More easy self-control,

The closing circle’s hole

With something in the middle;

Riddle closer to solution.

Compensations in a nutshell.

And the shells are in the bowl.

©Leaving Sixty-Six 01.9.10

Pure Nakedness; Birth, Death & In Between; Time; Circling Round Wrinkles; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin