Peter Werner
Thoughts on a 65th Birthday
1
The body,
beginning to understand
what it means to die,
even in this July sun
remains a little shrunken.
2
If I were Japanese
I’d talk of
the ancient plum trees
still blooming
with their old fragrance,
or the cherries’ late flowering
on Mount Aso - robed now
in autumn splendour.
Instead, being Irish,
breaking no sacred vows,
I shout, ‘Fuck old age!’,
the sun in hiding
behind the clouds.
3
A banana,
spotted with age,
droops over the rim
of the fruit bowl -
its body’s dejection
strange, ritualistic theatre.
Peter Werner lives in Skankill, Co. Dublin. Previous publications include Poetry Ireland Review, London Magazine, Oxford Poetry, H.U., and the Swansea Review.
Page(s) 97
magazine list
- Features
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- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
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