The Three Ages of Woman
Painting by Gustav Klimt, 1905
LIFETIME
—Wayne Robinson
And those other lifetimes . . . So many, each
encircling a girl, woman, lady. Each a time I cheated
death, cheated loneliness, embraced another soul. A
separate memory of a separate time, special time,
special love, a lifetime lived within that time frame.
Who do you love? I see the tears wiped clean maybe,
though not away. Who’s lifetime are you in now? Your
embrace is warm on my skin, I am cheating old age
again, holding a fresh chance. I know you are not
young, but you make ME feel that way. A spring
sunshine after these long winter rains. We are
animals, lusty in the bedroom, then guide dogs on the
sidewalk, sharing our happiness by helping others less
fortunate in life, and love. We enter this lifetime,
smiling and attentive, who knows how it will end? Or
when? Maybe death will finally catch up to me, or
you’ll feel cheated by my magnetic pull on your soul
when I kiss your pink lips. Dump me like sour milk in
the sink. Another lifetime embedded for a memory.
When I lie helpless in the
old-age-smelly-noisy-sickening-hospital, I hope I have
the memory. The memory of all the lifetimes, the
memory of . . . you.
____________________
BODY
—Sasha Moorsom
What was so quiet a companion,
My dumb friend,
Now cries out, groans,
Swells up with noxious fluid
Clamouring for attention.
Did I neglect you,
Taking for granted
The ease with which you walked, breathed,
Ran for a bus?
We that were one, are two.
I bow before you.
____________________
ADVICE TO THE OLD (INCLUDING MYSELF)
—Kay Boyle
Do not speak of yourself (for God's sake) even when asked.
Do not dwell on other times as different from the time
Whose air we breathe; or recall books with broken spines
Whose titles died with the old dreams. Do not resort to
An alphabet of gnarled pain, but speak of the lark's wing
Unbroken, still fluent as the tongue. Call out the names of stars
Until their metal clangs in the enormous dark. Yodel your way
Through fields where the dew weeps, but not you, not you.
Have no communion with despair; and, at the end,
Take the old fury in your empty arms, sever its veins,
And bear it fiercely, fiercely to the wild beast's lair.
_____________________
RESIGNATION
—Chou Ho (b. 821 A.D.)
The willows
Bow their branches
Until the long leaves
Brush the earth.
Come back with me
And let us drink together
Down by the river bank.
When we met,
We gazed at each other
And saw
That our hair was white.
But what of it?
Why worry?
No man on this earth
Can remain forever young.
____________________
—Medusa
