If only I could find my glasses I could read the morning paper. Now that I have found my spectacles I am unable to read the fine print. Last week, Dr. Evans said the eye drops for the glaucoma and…
In this lingering light of a late winter against a coral covered sky. I have passed forty-two age my mother was when she died. Once so hot headed I…
When you go dancing do persons other than friends ask you to dance? Strangling words pierced lips where love, passion and need once lived. My gray crown counting each subtle cruelty. Long ago in my lover’s arms I convinced myself…
I lay awake Thoughts of times past The sound of your footsteps pacing The sanctuary of hot coffee Silver of your hair glistening under a single kitchen bulb Silver the age of restless Awakened long before dawn Silver doesn’t need…
My mother loses the tip of her nose to melanoma. She loses her last sweetheart Art when his daughter forced him to move across the country. She loses her friends one by one as they died. She loses her swim…
Age has found me with a tube of red lipstick, a missing front tooth and a partial I had to put in the lay-a-way cuz it cost too much to buy outright Got pesky moles removed from my face an…
The history of my hair My curls These grays…. My canas Are the maps of my life Each strand confirms I’ve lived through some things I’ve been through some things I’ve seen some things My curls scream Africa Afrolatina Woman…
I leave the hard liquor and the loud talk, that special pot of New Years’ souse. I seek the quiet my elders taught: As the night turned, as the year turned, bad leg or not, my grandfather knelt before his…
I do not recognize the hand that grasps mine… Strong, but no flesh-cushion smooths its bony contours. Brown, but bluish conduits of life bulge and writhe, While newly freckled skin sinks ’round visible cords of thick sinew. It seems I…
Springtime returns, burdened with poetry. Tulips nod by the water lily-dotted pool where layer upon joyous layer of color brightens. Colors will recede, the sunlight will change. I have been to Giverny. Paris to Vernon by train, taxi to Monet’s…
In the crisp clear air of winter nipping at autumn’s backside, the neighbor’s persimmon tree stands two and a half stories tall. Its canopy naked of leaves, reshaped by the drag of its fruit: tear- and globe-shaped shocks of waxen…
Curator’s Statement – Lorraine Currelley It was my honor to curate Mom Egg VOX Gallery, January 2016. A welcomed opportunity to curate a gallery whose theme is near and dear to me; Age and Aging. I…