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to become immortal, and then die
June 17, 2012
it’s amazing —
the crinkles from a lifetime
of smiling, the wrinkles from
years of frowning and sighing,
the sandpaper appearance
of the aged face, sometimes
still smooth to the touch; the
way they slowly lift themselves
out of their chairs, joints creak-
ing bones wobbling fingers trem-
bling —
they move as if they have all
the time in the world when really,
time is already running out.
© Anna P., Poulsbo, WA
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The title of this poem was taken from a snippet of a quote from Jean-Luc Godard's film, À bout de souffle (Breathless).