Aged

Poem

Sometimes my dreams are so real
That when I’ve woken
I am still terrified.
The cold linoleum rises to meet the pads of my feet.
The breeze breathes on my bare back.
It is only morning.
I’ve just woken,
Naked in the bluster
In the remnant tangles of nightmares and sheets.
I know my soul has lived a thousand times before,
But my body is brand new.
Somehow I know the rigors of old age.
I feel the phantom pangs of aching joints,
But these bones have never known them.
I see the shadows of the men I’ve loved
Dance across the walls.

When I look back
At the end of my life
I’m sure I won’t be able to tell the difference
Between my dreams and reality.

more by NOELLE CURRIE

photograph by Ryan McGuire

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