Charade

by Barbra Nightingale

 

It's not so much my face
but my hands I notice
beginning to go slack,
the skin freckled and dry.
And yes, it is an affront-
this ageing is not graceful.

There was a time these hands
took handfuls of flesh, kneaded
a back like dough, pounded
desire till it was flat and round,
enough to store for winter.

These hands lifted and held
a baby, twenty pounds of books,
the edge of a wall,
and seemingly endless mounds
of shit both figurative and real.

These hands have known how to live,
how to scoop and heft its weight,
looking for balance.
They have hurt and healed in equal measure.

These hands are growing old,
but they are open and waiting.

 

©2005 Barbra Nightingale

Barbra Nightingale has had over 150 poems accepted for or published in numerous poetry journals and anthologies, such as Poetrybay.com, Mississippi Review.com, Tigertail: A South Florida Annual; Barrow Street, The Apalachee Review, The Florida Review, Calyx, Kalliope, Many Mountains Moving, Birmingham Review, and the Chatahoochee Review, among others. Singing in the Key of L, won the 1999 Stevens Poetry Manuscript Award and was published by the National Federation of Poetry Societies (June, 1999). She has four other chapbooks, 1981-2000, and is a Professor of English at Broward Community College, South campus, Florida.