Release (Poetry)

This casual freedom’s unexpected — a relief,
this shucking-off of daily habit —
the careful face applied each morning,
erased again each night.

No peering in the mirror plucking brows
or fussing with mascara now,
I let dark shadows lie and seldom fret
over wrinkles deepening.

No more of that
since I have grown more comfortable in seeing
myself matured in every line, and so
present a natural show,

accept and do not rage or worry overmuch
that age has claimed me, laid its mark
upon my skin and changing hair
the silver strands will conquer soon enough.

Why fight — let futile stress lay further waste
to what’s already sliding, losing ground?
No laser, no cell-renewing cream can combat Time
or force retreat into a smooth reverse.

Yet I confess the ghost of glamour haunts...
from time to time the impulse stirs, revived
when the evening light is kind,
I slink about in silk and shoes more slender-heeled,

dab on scent and sip at vintage wine
through plumped and painted lips,
feel mellow and romantic, sense my blood
flush like a young girl’s,

flirt with the illusion while I let my powdered eyes
seduce him. Then we play our roles afresh,
as if all those years we’ve gathered up between us
had never been.