INVISIBLE ???
The actual fall happened to a friend (about a year ago), but the situation inspired me to write this bit of free verse, which I have also posted to my portfolio on FanStory.
If I were young and nubile, fresh of face with upturned breasts,
would you have still stepped over me when I fell, or
would gallantry have emerged, replacing boorish disregard?
And if I were truly aged, rather than stuck in the awkward middle,
would grey-topped frailty, sprawled inelegantly under foot, have
evoked grandmotherly images, spurring you to help me upright?
Would ignoring me have christened you a lout by passers-by.
You. Yes, YOU.
I’m talking to you,
with your swept-back Donald Trump hair
and the Rolex-adorned wrist you paused to check.
Was I invisible?
With roughened fingers splayed on dirty concrete,
gashed knees oozing red on the not-pristine sidewalk,
my fifties form did not inspire a gallant gesture.
There was nothing to be gained for you in reaching out a hand --
neither promise of seductive gratitude nor
grace from God for aiding one edging closer to his Kingdom.
As if the indignity of widening hips and bagging eyes were not enough,
Any substance that I thought I had is fading into ghostly apparition.
You. Yes, YOU.
I’m talking to you, here.
With your pricey leather shoes
that gingerly side-stepped my splayed-out hand.
Was I invisible?
As I struggled to collect the leash and ruined bags.
The only worried eyes were canine:
nose pressed against my face, tail twitching in troubled unease.
My humiliation absolute, I could not feign
a self-depreciating laugh to entertain the vacant faces
of those striding hurriedly past. I’ve depreciated enough.
My value is now measured on the minus end of the number scale.
As middle age increases my girth, my worth decreases exponentially.
Does female middle age deem me irrelevant? Expendable?
You men mature into metaphors of our fathers, and
the age-old search for Daddy’s love extends your
warranty far beyond young manhood.
A women’s value plummets with each wrinkle that reminds you
of your mother, and your aunts, and your third-grade teacher.
We shrink your manhood as we age and
your retaliation is to shrink us into insignificance.
The only bleeding this woman’s body does now is from scrapes and cuts.
Did my allure dry up along with my monthly blood?
Did my human worth vaporize with my juicy desirability.
Am I invisible?
to see the artwork I paired with this piece, go to this link. Go to the 2009 collection and look for I Need an Exit. Great work.
www.psilocylia.com/photography/psilocylia_photography_collection_001.shtml#