Napo 22: Proverb Poem

In Praise of Rust

“Those who rest grow rusty”

What if, instead of fighting it,
We let it happen: rust, the slow
Changing of color from silver to amber,
The roughening like palms
That’ve spent their better years
Putting the world back together
Or cleaning it with bleach,
The soft flaking of flecks of the self.

What if, in rest, I let the moisture of you
Soften the iron fist, the steel heart.
If the cogs of the world stopped spinning
Long enough to notice the patina
Clothing the body in beauty
As it reclines on the sofa,

Settles in for another long evening
With you, a movie, a pizza between us,
And our quiet metamorphosis to rust.