December—the 95th Year
Last night I lay awake and practiced
getting old. Not difficult,
but I needed to teach myself to love my destination
before I arrive.
I feel the earth shifting under me. My writing hand
shakes—its rubbery nudges clumsy,
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December—the 95th Year
Last night I lay awake and practiced
getting old. Not difficult,
but I needed to teach myself to love my destination
before I arrive.
I feel the earth shifting under me. My writing hand
shakes—its rubbery nudges clumsy,
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