“Middle age” became a thing
when I was middle aged
a snorty phrase
as if that dazzling time of life
is a nothing, not even a noun
but a joining-word
a tottery bridge between youth
and the ghoulish land of old.
By now I should be getting meals on wheels
but something strange has happened
the middle ages stretch and stretch
the line of demarcation
has become a DMZ
wider ever wider the buffer zone expands
of age without labels, age without clues.
I’m old by the old arithmetic
but not by the new biology.
I planned to write a simple bio
(as in you live and then you die-oh)
but hey I’m still alive
and my bio is inflating
it’s a trilogy—tetralogy—pentalogy
and I wonder if this miracle of life
will ever end.
MP3 recording of the poem
Poem, audio and photo by Rachel McAlpine CC BY 2.0. Please share freely, with a link to this page.