Today’s poem is part of a special launch schedule during National Poetry Month from April 1—30, 2024. I’ll be posting a new poem daily for 30 days, which will be sent out to all subscribers as a summary on April 9, 16, 24, and 30 and otherwise can be viewed for free in the archives here. Thank you for being here!
“THE PERSONIFICATION OF YOUTH”
The cruelest irony is By the time you’ve figured out What your colours are What flatters your body type Made enough money to buy the bag and the jewels Your body has already sagged, broadened, bloated Your hair has started to grey at an exponential rate Your moment in the sun (the one that was promised With hard work and strict adherence to thrumming unspoken rules of being a girl and/or witch) turned out so slight, a wisp not even a breeze, it may as well have been a figure of speech. Gave 15 years of game for 5 seconds of glory. Until head cocked, you saw Distraction, survival, Are they not the same? And before you know it you’re diving into some hole in the ground Where apricots and roses dream of growing from the spoils of an animal once as beautiful as you. And the soiled stardust seemed to whisper Give me your best impression of a ripe woman, as it took you in.
P.S.
Aging seems to be one of those things that everyone has to experience (if they’re lucky). Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one thinking about it and not from the perspective of appearance but more from the constant reminder that my body is starting to actively deteriorate and I am no longer on the uphill climb towards adulthood.