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Senescence


My face is puckering,
corrugating its walls and landscapes
like the bark of a naked tree.

It seems at the war
of senescence
the driven cannon of age
lost its bearing
and invaded me.

My face is a river
with many stories
like the face of an old statue,

the ledge where every bird
has defecated,
the old house
where everyone no longer
wants to live.

I bear the mark of living,
I wear the harsh smacks of life
like a ribbon,
and it makes the youths shiver.

2011.George MacLean Akurunwa