UNFIT GHAZAL

Stroke the arm, the hand, the fingers opening like silk,

fingers lost in hair, arms flexing, unflexing like silk.

How young this makes us, how warm, pretty, smooth.

Only age understands this change, this stirring of silk. 

We love the morning, the openness of ourselves to begin.  

There is strength in the sun, strength cool and holy as silk.

The mirror touts me as younger than I am, maybe…

my lover says I open to him as does a robe of blue silk.

The stranger on the bus stared and my throat ached

for a drink, a whisky and soda, smooth as silk.

I challenge you to live this life, as full on as you can, 

without shame, without fear, put on an armor of silk.

Hear that sound?  It’s the world’s heart, pounding in your ears, 

praying for your attention, praying for food, offering silk.

Along this dirt path, where glass and lizards glow,