bout de papier, Vol. 16, No. 4 (1999-2000) — Winter 1999-2000 // Hiver 1999-2000, p. 37
I am stretching the definition of Middle
Age. My middle is stretching too.
Time to mortify my flesh in the gym.
And I have so much flesh to mortify!
Gym is full of bright young people in
good shape
sent specifically to show me up:
So it seems. Ignore humiliation
of lightening weights after that young female
colleague, before I can lift them at all;
pretend I can’t see my stomach wobble
each time I bend. At least I can now bend.
“Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt,
thaw, or dissolve itself into a dew.
as Bill would have it, in another context.
Sweat yes, melt no, or so the scale informs.
Keep up the mantra “mortify and sweat”,
pant if you must but “mortify the flesh”,
and bye and bye that elegant, svelte frame
of yesteryear will re-appear again.
You dream, my boy, you dream!
But show some zing
and the spring in your step will remain
this Spring.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 16, No. 4 (1999-2000) — Winter 1999-2000 // Hiver 1999-2000, p. 37. Read the rest of this issue →
