Why Am I Doing This Poetry

Sport

This is not how to grow old gracefully

Requires adult supervision and a medical waiver Photo by Carl Barcelo on Unsplash

I am a spectator at my own sport.
My sport is evading morphing decay.
I assume the pretzel posture in yoga.
In my mind, I am the instructor,
unjointed and surgically enhanced.
My underwear protests.

First and last lines from Sandra Cisneros’ poem, “At Fifty I Am Startled to Find I Am in My Splendor”

Reading of this poem:

Sport

More stories by Nolcha Fox:

Key

Cousin Trouble

If Hemingway Wrote