Tuesday, April 24, 2018

INVENTORY




(This is a Mayan necklace)

Check in the yellow pages of my teeth
to find the dentist  
who capped each with gold,
built ceramic replicas.


These Mayan jewels 
are bought from smiling men
in gowns, with drills –  with yachts. 

Then my eyes – hooded drooping lids,
camera obscura
because of cataracts,
retinal derelictions, 
waving seaweed floaters.  
I see through glasses
darkly.

Don’t ask to view me naked –
redundant skin folds, wrinkles,
scars of battle with obesity. 
X-rays inside my knees
reveal eroded cartilage – 
I take 5,000 steps a day –
not necessarily on the spot. 

Remarkably, against the odds
I do move forward.

No comments:

Post a Comment