by Amira Fernandez
Where does old age live?
Is it inside of us already
waiting to emerge from our unknown depths
and seize us by the organs
dampening their function
giving us an omen
of our numbered days?
Or is it outside of us
in our food and drink
accumulating like poison in our liver
until it spills out and spoils everything around it
wrinkling and priming our body
for rot and decay?
Is old age a violent subject
That pounces out from behind our dreams
and grabs us by the skin
pulling it loose from our muscles
then chomping on our melanin
leaving our hair white?
What if when you’re 55
You still feel 25?
What do you do then?
Where has old age gone?
Maybe
it’s just a visitor
that keeps its baggage
inside our hearts
And sometimes, some days,
it opens the door and steps out
Giving the illusion that perhaps,
there is still enough time
Then, backaches and graying
remind us that youth is, indeed, long gone
And all we have left is to wait
For something
For anything
to happen