Unchanged

Wri en by Sarah Ogden

I heard age contorts skin Into a gri mold Embedded with specks.

If paint pumped years through the vents of my skin I would cover my tear-stained face So they could only peck above the rim And not scratch up aces of pain.

If pounds completed my slackened build I would mold clay against the gaps To ll the esh on these hollow bones With ripe well-roundedness.

Yet here I stand without overlay And they don’t see me their kind While I myself s ll contemplate How much body shapes the mind.

Once it was ansparent, Unfolded bones of bliss, Yet that was long ago.

We were all glowing ghosts Before our bodies hardened, Hammered with dents.

To bend when I s ll oat? I must wear the tan cloak As proof of my ansience.

I rest at even glints

To illuminate a room at with my own lamp

Would be too dim

To maneuver through 