Old Hag am I
Old hag am I
hair a-snaggle, jaw a-shaking
stained thermal shirt
green sock with toe poking through
There is a joy in my face in the mirror, mirror on the wall
beneath the starting pimple
nostrils rubbed red by t.p. tissues
I drop my pen with stiff fingers –
a touch of the usual?
– Don’t mind if I do!
No love keeps the dawn watch for me
no serenade to break the city calm of this morning hour
except the yowl of a hungry cat
but I grin as I get up from my desk to feed her
I eat my belly full of my words
my my my my
Old hag am I, and I never lie.
– VB April 19th, 2006