A Poem by Fran Newton: When I Get Old

A body like this.

A mind, even –

 

It kills. It kills –

To be something ever silver,

 

Gather here, watch me

Shrink and

Shrivel like old fruit

 

Or rotting flowers.

Still feet on ground,

 

I stay, still here,

Stone stiff, stuck straight, but

 

Now we find I’ve gathered moss –

Damp and green, I

 

Might retain the heat of

Younger summers rising.

 

Dark heat. Dark melting moons.

There’s more to say of

 

Nothingness – it’s

Underrated. Reading more books –

 

Drinking more booze –

Swearing with grace. Shit. Fuck. Cunt.

The colour red. The colour green.

The colour blue.

 

Image (4).jpg

 

Illustration by Isabel Kilborn.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s