Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry

Stuck in Time

Stuck in Time

it is time to move on with this verse, stymied
stuck in the mire and mess of yesterday; so
who cares if I am old, though never will you see
gray in my hair or age in my countenance
so what if men no longer look upon me with lustful
glances, though admittedly I’ve not stopped looking
if my age and body fail me in this spot, so what
I’m not going to shrivel in a corner, hide or die

these are insidious commentaries, bourn upon us
my that social fear of growing old, meaning growing
useless, tired, helpless, trapped in a failing body
fragile, flailing arms and minds wishing to be
forever young

that is not the process, that is not the design, not
the mystery of our evolution upon this planet for
at best a century, worst less than that
if love and sex is all the loss, if beauty and prowess
deserts, even when I wish it wouldn’t
is that the end of this game, or
perhaps, maybe, just a beginning?


One thought on “Stuck in Time

  1. Though our bodies are out of their sexual prime, our minds are still addicted to the high that sexual activities garnered. We must learn to transition into our next phase, for life is just that, a series of phases to be learned, explored and retired.


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