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.