At cock crow
Lady and Mr. Y, turned seventy
They googled themselves;
The wind whistled past
And exposed the gooses back
They felt the wrinkles
On their temple,
The rings around their eyes
And the tires around their waistline;
They threw caution to the wind,
Damned God's wisdom;
Rejected and refused the notion
That every product
Has a manufacture and expiration date
Like Adam and Eve,
They rebelled and went
On a rehabilitation and refurbishing spree:
First, was a tummy tuck, Liposuction,
Rhinoplasty and facelift,
Then,
Necklift, browlift, chinlift, breastlift
And facial rejuvenation.....
For a while,
They shortchanged nature
As a snake shells it's outer layer
But,
Could not cheat death
When it came knocking.
Sometimes studying the mirror I'm overcome with chagrin
Feeling disappointed by this shell I'm dwelling in.
With my slightly too thick midriff there above my underwear,
I'm more the rotund apple than alluring luscious pear,
Making ludicrous comparisons to girls with waspy waists,
And my nose, Lord, Pinocchio's, upon my pleasant face
With its odd small accompanying hump placed what!...To accentuate?
Later, however, on better days, my focus redirects
To reviewing my favorite qualities, and what I see reflects
A somewhat shapely figure; Legs lean, well-formed and strong;
Lovely eyes, lips and breasts, and lashes that are long.
So I'm obliged to acknowledge with accepting certainty
My temple, though flawed, was gifted by God
(And there's always rhinoplasty)!
For the "I Am" Poetry Contest of Frank H.
Sometimes I wonder if I use poetry as a crutch
To my emotions broken limbs
As if poetry is an outpatient outlet for my informative formalities
Passive aggressive tendencies
Rhyme disease
My apologies, I seem to forget the apostrophes
Like symbolic catastrophe
Heartache rhinoplasty
Augmentation of my weaknesses
I contain in my vial the audacity
Squirting literary illness on healthy bodies and souls
Because we're all dying,
And just trying to stay beautiful
-Jess
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