Wrinkly Lady Dancer

Going to be an old wrinkly lady
Going to be one of those frail rag people
Going to have withered hands and be
Puzzled to tears crossing the street

Hobble cautiously onto buses
Like a withery fruit
And quite silently sitting in this lurching bus
The avenues coming by

Some other passengers gaze at me
Clutching my cane and my newspaper
Seemingly protectively, but I will really be thinking about
The afternoon I danced naked with you
The afternoon I danced naked with you
The afternoon! I danced! Naked with you!

by Alicia Suskin Ostriker

Comments (1)

as to approach the twilight of our years with the sing-song quality of the first and last stanzas of this poem and the real, dark content of its middle section.