Old Belly Fat Poem by James P. Roberts
Old Belly Fat
What is this shapeless "thing"
standing in the mirror
before me?
I move
and it jiggles.It is obscene.
A jellied white
hairy slug.
Is "this" what age does
to one?
All symmetry
and fine lines gone?
Exercise videos
of lithe women in spandex
lay dusty in racks, outdated.
All that's left
is bleary eyes, thin gray hair,
balky, bulging knees...
... and a shiny new
hiking stick.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 10:15:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
