Piercings (1)
She preens, shakes her head
to catch the glitter in the glass.
Such vanity, to be young
because your earlobes sparkle,
through your short gray hair.
Remorse takes her for feelings
spoken, felt — those kids
flaunting vulgar youth
with studs in ears or noses
or worse spots, breasts, penises —
But that charming woman,
graceful, elegant in her sari,
her manners impeccable, aloof,
a diamond delicately in her nose,
where does she fit in my design?
Oh, shall we adorn
ourselves, be, as the peacocks
are, decorated and proud,
and a pox on all who go
sober, sedate, without our flourish!
Piercings (2)
I preen, shake my head
to catch the glitter in the glass.
Such vanity, to be young
because my earlobes sparkle,
through my short gray hair.
And my feelings,
spoken to those kids
flaunting vulgar youth
with studs in ears or noses
or worse spots, breasts, penises —
Yet the charming woman,
graceful, elegant in her sari,
her manners impeccable, aloof,
a diamond delicately in her nose,
where does she fit in my design?
Oh, shall we adorn
ourselves, be, as the peacocks
are, decorated and proud,
and a pox on all who go
sober, gray, without our flourish!
Lari Smith