Antiquities 1

Stone Figure of Old Woman

            What do I care

                                      about time                                     

that’s dismantled my

            face—mouth, lips,

                 brows

half-erased, this head lifted

in a frozen howl.

                             Gone

            are the arms that held

what I loved

                    but you will not take

what’s left of my voice:

grief’s whirlwind.

                        Beauty

has no place here.

Look at me.

Do not turn away.

Kathleen Wakefield © 2021