When I’m Old
Poetry
when I’m old, death be blessed, I’m laughing, laughing exponentially. I teach Love’s ancient fire to children in India, or anywhere, stories streaming freely, myself dancing from the table’s dangling spine.
a woman, loving and ordinary, in stained jeans knows who I am, and I think she’s my wife, and I know like a cave painter she co-built a nest, refuge to heal the wounds inflicted by the world on us and our children.
when I’m old I sit in the bare nest and use a blender to blend all the meals into an arabesque cream; the crash of the blades are so quaking they silence regret
and the daydreams I dreamed have all happened, and none were necessary for happiness, which was woven from inside: my gizzard, or maybe my splean, but it certainly couldn’t have come from anywhere else.
©Daniel Barry, 2022
