Philosophers say
That you can't put your foot
In the same river twice.

I don't know.
I've spent my life dipping toes
In different waters,
Changing, being changed,
Circling back to where I started.

Does the future bend
Each time we take a step to the left or the right?
Each time we choose one path and reject another?

Or is it the past that's altered
Every time we look at our lives
In the rearview mirror,
Adjusting our reflection to reflect the fantasy of youth?

Take my hand and step into the river with me tonight.
Strip off your clothes, we don't need them now,
And let's drift away
As far as that wine-dark, metaphysical sea will take us.

Close your eyes and dream.
Do not resist the pull of time or destiny.
We are all naked under the sky.
In the end, the Great Mother
will wrap us in her sequined blanket
And carry us home to bed.

​Ah, what the Hell?
A villanelle.
A Shakespearean sonnet?
I’ll get right on it!
 
Love or death,
A pretty flower.
I rent my quatrains
By the hour.
 
Couplets, limericks,
Iambic rhymes.
I sing for my supper
And dance for dimes.
 
Every troubadour
Who penned a verse
Had a rich, old patron
With a golden purse.
 
Such, alas, is
The poet’s lot.
Now throw some
Money in the pot.
 
 
Rosalind Resnick
Dec. 29, 2015