The Up-Rolling of Time
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When we escape middle age:
When the sun shines perpetualAnd the floor no more needs waxing,When the piles of papers don't pile upAnd we are just relaxing,
When the pan never burns,And the joints do not ache,When the laundry is self-cleaningAnd love is all we make,
When the brow's rows unruffleAnd the hair sheds its gray,When we can duck our duties,We'll run outside to play.
When we escape old age:
When the sun shines perpetualAnd walking is not taxing,When we return to how we wereAnd waning conquers waxing,
When the spine's smooth and suppleAnd the rheum stays at bay,When we can ditch our dentures,We'll have no more to say.
When we grow a little smallerAnd lose our breasts and teeth,We will rediscover nursingAnd diaper what's beneath, [End Page 556]
When we grow smaller yetAnd cells then re-cohere,We will become as embryosAnd at last disappear. [End Page 557]
Susan De Sola has poetry forthcoming in The New Republic and Measure and is winner of the David Reid Poetry Translation Prize. She is presently completing a first collection of her poetry.
