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I am not older, I merely
grew tired of the appearance
of endless beauty

I work under the conceit
of sore knees,
wrinkled youth, and duty

You believe these are for others
none applies to you:
your hesitation certain doom

Come to me when truth
refuses your particular disability
while you are discovering

Death has no separate rooms,
only the inevitability now:
you ignore or later tell yourself you choose

©Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from Of Flesh Sculptures And Abandoned Love, 160 pages, 16.99

These poems are advertisements for the BOOKS – get uplifted, buy & enjoy one

Biography    Literary Publications      Book Sale!

all my books on salehttp://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

alternatively, direct from CreateSpace – https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/links-to-my-books-in-print//

<–Check this out: Poetry & How It Gets That Way updated!

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