Eve of 58
I celebrated the night
before another birthday
by beating myself raw
with all I have not yet done
(“Yet” generous but idle flattery)
not married,
not fathered,
not feathered my bed,
not loved nearly as often
or as well as I might
Was cradling my mother’s hand
while she slipped beneath the waves
all life required of me,
everything after being gravy,
the way I suspect a 14-year-old gymnast feels
with a medal around her neck,
already wondering if it’s all downhill
from here?
About the Author: Dudley Stone’s is the author of Strays & Fellow Travelers, published by Half Inch Press. He was recently awarded the A.R. Ammons Poetry Prize and is a Pushcart Prize nominee. Mr. Stone lives in Lexington, KY. See more of his work at dudleystone.com.
Image Credit: Edvard Munch Despair (1892) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
